


On With the Show

by orphan_account



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Camp Forge, Hamilton - Freeform, I changed the spelling of her name because I'm inconsistent, I'm a professional tagger, M/M, Maria isn't a jerk in this one, Modern AU, Summer Camp AU, Washingdad, ahahaha plot twist, except this time they're gay theatre nerds, fight me, high school/college au, i still don't know what i'm doing, it would be fun they said, listen to Hamilton they said, not actually a pray the gay away camp despite Henry Laurens's belief, the gay nerds return, theatre summer camp au, these dorks are ruining my life, well here I am ya little shits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-27
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-06-04 18:52:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 43,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6670747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Hamilton has been going to this theatre camp since he was twelve, because his foster father runs it. He's met his best friends here. And every year, they put on a play. This one's their last, but no one wants to think about that.</p><p>Somehow, for six years, they've managed to do so while keeping the drama (romantic, at least) exclusively onstage. </p><p>John Laurens is here to accidentally throw a wrench in the schedule.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I'm back again with another fic about our very gay founding fathers! This isn't in the FWRTM universe, but remember that one time I implied that John and Alex were vaguely interested in theatre? 
> 
> HERE HAVE A WHOLE FIC ABOUT THAT YOU'RE WELCOME GOODBYE 
> 
> Anyway, like I said before, I'm ace/aro and barely understand pining much less romantic attraction, so bear with me and enjoy anyway! I almost 100% guarantee it's worth it (operative word being almost here)! So sit back, relax, and enjoy the show!

Alexander Hamilton is a theatre kid. 

This fact has resonated with him since he was 12- 6 years ago now- because his foster father ran a theatre camp. It wasn’t one of those slapped-together camps (though those could certainly be great, as he knows from other experiences back on St. Croix), either- the place was seriously well funded, to the point where Alex began to feel awkward talking to the other people in his theatre class at school. Didn’t have to worry about that anymore, though- he’d finally gotten out of high school, and had gotten into Princeton, hopefully leaving behind all the idiots who judged him for the countless things he’d done “wrong” (namely, having a personality in general, it seemed). 

Really, considering the fact that he’s technically no longer a minor by most respects, theatre man is probably more accurate in this case, but it doesn’t really have the same ring to it. 

These are the thoughts that are spiraling through his head as he drives with his closest friends to Camp Forge. He’s in Peggy’s mom van (why the actual hell did they buy a minivan? Their dad was loaded. They could buy literally any reasonable car) with the three Schuyler siblings, plus Mulligan and Lafayette, and he stares out the window, feeling completely removed from the scene.

“Hey, Hamilton,” says Mulligan, snapping his massive fingers under Alex’s nose. “Pay attention.” Lafayette is frowning at him. Alex leans back in his seat and rolls his eyes. 

“What, Laf?” Alexander asks, stretching his neck in an attempt to look down his nose at them (he’s always been the shortest in his friend group). The Frenchman huffs, crossing their arms. 

“I SAID, Alex, that we might have someone new joining our cabin.” 

Alex raises his eyebrows. “Really?” Camp Forge is, in that way, very much like every other summer camp anyone has ever gone to. A counselor (theirs is Mulligan, not that it matters- he’s a few years older than them, but no more mature) per cabin, 3 to 4 besides them. Generally, they’re categorized by gender, but ever since the youngest Schuyler sibling, Peggy, came along, Washington caved and let people put in requests. 

Laf fidgets in their seat, perking up a little despite their annoyance at Alex. “ _Oui!_ He’s a family friend of mine- John Laurens. Came out as gay a couple months back to his ass of a father, and is going to this camp because my parents lied to his father and said it was one of those… how you say… Pray the gay away camps.” Alex snorts- of course they did that, probably at Lafayette’s request, because their parents are ridiculously invested in his happiness. Mulligan rolls his eyes (he’s not surprised either), while the Schuylers burst out laughing. 

“How have I not heard of him yet?” Alex asks. Lafayette shrugs, settling back into their seat. 

“Ah… his sorry excuse for a father is a South Carolina senator. Republican. I merely didn’t want you trying to fight somebody with the money to sue you.” Alex huffs angrily, but concedes the point before opening his mouth to retort. 

“Oh! We’re here!” calls Eliza from the passenger’s seat, effectively cutting off the conversation and beaming as she nearly flings herself out of the car. Angelica laughs and gives her sister an affectionate look as she follows. No matter how aloof anyone seems, nobody can stay that way around Camp Forge. Strange, how theatre camps have a way of breaking the acts. 

xxx 

John Laurens is nervous as all hell. 

He’s going to a “pray the gay away” camp, of all things. He’d never thought his father would stoop so low, and on Lafayette’s parents recommendations, too! This was absolutely insanity. John’s father glanced over at him, seeming to read his thoughts. 

“It’s for the best, John. You have to let go of these silly fantasies, and find the way of the Lord.” 

John doesn’t dare to roll his eyes, but he’s sorely tempted. 

“Ah, here we are. Camp Forge.” 

“I’ll get my stuff, Dad. Bye,” he hesitates, but knows it will be marked down against him if he doesn’t say it, “love you.” 

Henry nods, not bothering to reply, and opens the trunk, then waits till John has all his stuff in his arms before looking up. “Have a good summer, son,” he says, then quickly guns the engine and drives away. John exhales slowly, staring at a sign brightly proclaiming, “CAMP FORGE”, then begins the trek to the cabins. 

A rowdy group of 6 kids about his age are all gathered in front of one of the cabins, laughing and talking. He thinks he catches the phrases “gonna be so fun” and “can’t wait for this year’s play”, but decides his ears must be playing tricks on him. Also, why do they look so damn happy? It’s a religious camp meant to correct them. John rolls his eyes, then catches sight of the number nailed just above the doorway- “5”. Damnit. His cabin. Henry had made him fill out the application, which was almost insultingly plain- name, email, age, gender, and sexuality, which meant he got the email saying which cabin he got. Again, it had been plain- no description of the “course” or anything. John sighs and trudges towards the group, hauling his luggage behind him. 

A face pokes out of the crowd. “Laurens! It’s been so long, _mon ami_!” John’s brow furrows, and he stops in his tracks.

“Laf? What are you doing here?” A guilty look crosses their face as someone comes up behind him.

“You mean you didn’t tell _him_ what this place is?” The guy asks Lafayette, obviously annoyed. Laf shrugs, expression a little sheepish. “Alright- John, isn’t it?- this guy told your dad a blatant lie when he said this was a “pray the gay away” camp or some shit. Welcome to theatre camp. And if your dad is as much as a bastard as Laf’s been saying, then, okay, I see why they had to lie and say that it was… whatever. Because apparently theatre isn’t fucking manly enough.” 

Okay, John likes this guy, even if he’s kind of pissed off. “Um…” 

“Sorry, Laurens.” Lafayette grins. John rolls his eyes, rocking back on his heels. 

“So who’re you guys?” He distinctly notices three girls in the crowd. “Are you, like, all my cabinmates or whatever?” The guy shakes his head. 

“Nah. Mulligan, Laf, and me are. Ange- watch out for her, she’s terrifying” he points to a tall girl who elbows the guy (the guy just snickers)- “Eliza, who’s a literal ray of sunshine-” a smaller girl with dark eyes smiles at him- “and Peggy, who’s kind of just awesome-” a shorter kid with a pixie cut- “Pegs is agender, and uses they/them pronouns, so respect that or fuck off- are just our friends.” 

John laughs at the descriptions, then nods more seriously. “Got it. Who’re you, then?” 

The guy steps forward, away from the group, and grins (oh, _shit_ , he’s hot, and John’s only just noticed- his eyes are dark and beautiful, and he’s short but in an endearing way, and his hair is long and obsidian-black, and this can’t be healthy because this guy’s going to be his roommate for the rest of the summer), holding out his hand. John takes it. 

“I’m Alexander Hamilton.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets the all-exclusive camp tour. Pining occurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These nerds. 
> 
> Honestly, at this point in the plot, it's me throwing out random words and plot and hoping it turns out okay, but don't let that deter you! I promise it'll become more coherent later! But for now, aimless pining and events that may or may not be actually related to the whole big story.

Alex curls his fingers around John’s hand and pulls him along quickly. He catches a glimpse of Lafayette’s highly amused face (seriously, why the actual hell didn’t Laf introduce them before? He would gladly suffer a lawsuit for this face) as he rushes into the cabin, then realizes he’s still holding the other kid’s hand and drops it, blushing slightly. He spreads his arms widely, gesturing around the small cabin. 

“Welcome, my dear Laurens, to your humble abode,” Alex catches a glimpse of a tiny smile pulling at the edge of his lips, and his heart flutters a little, which is especially ridiculous considering he’s known the guy for about three minutes. “Mulligan and Laf always bunk together, so that leaves you with me.” There are two bunk beds in the cabin, shoved to the far side of the wooden wall, leaving the cramped space leftover for drawers, plus a closet that nobody uses. John nods, suddenly looking a bit unsure of himself. 

“Er… do you want me on the top bunk or the bottom?” he asks hesitantly. Alex shrugs eloquently, and John sighs and throws his pillow on the bottom bunk. “Coming from a child raised with an ungodly amount of siblings, top bunks are highly overrated,” John explains matter-of-factly. Alex grins a little, amused. 

“Well, your choice, Laurens.” He then proceeds to toss his own pillow up on the top bunk, a small smile still on his face. John flops down on his chosen bed, laying back in the small space. 

“So, tell me, is it, like, a thing for you to call people by their last names here?” 

Alex flushes in embarrassment, at least grateful that it’s dark enough in the cabin for John not to notice. “Well… No. But considering that Mulligan’s first name is Hercules, of all choices-” he throws out his arms- “and Lafayette is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette- don’t forget that, there’s going to be a quiz- it just seems kind of efficient. Plus, well- John’s too common of a name for you.” He curses himself inwardly as he blushes yet again; normally he’s so eloquent and knows exactly what to say, but for some reason, around Laurens, he keeps on just tripping up. What’s happening to him? John, however, offers him an easy smile. 

“So what do you want me to call YOU, then?” 

Alex shrugs. “Anything goes. No one really calls me Alexander, but Alex and Hamilton are relatively common. Actually, I get called a bunch of things, none of them really appropriate when referring to a friend, such as bastard and whore’s son, but, well, you know.” John looks briefly angry on his behalf, he thinks, and he wonders at what, then, Oh, right, you’re not supposed to talk about traumatic life experiences casually.

“Well, Alex is too boring for someone like you, and I feel like I’d end up calling you Ham eventually, so, you know what, I’m going to be a rebel and call you Alexander.” Okay, shit, he really likes the way his real name sounds on John’s tongue, and that’s when he truly realizes he’s 100 percent fucked, because he normally hates being called Alexander with a passion. But Alex can’t let John know that, so he just laughs.

“Whatever, Laurens.” He darts forward and grabs his hand again, but this time he _notices_ ; he allows himself to feel the callouses on John’s hand, allows himself to savor the sensation of this complete stranger’s long fingers- artist’s fingers, though he can’t be sure- wrapping around his palm. “We’ve got a lot to see, let’s go!” Alex gently tugs him off of the bed and outside. He doesn’t even care when Mulligan smirks at him, and Angelica chuckles under her breath. 

xxx 

Alexander. He’s grinning up playfully at John as he gives him what is Alex is calling “The Grand Tour of the AMAZING, FANTASTIC Camp Forge, Led by the TRUE Alexander the Great”, which, while informative, is also overly dramatic, though he supposes that’s how it’s supposed to be in a theatre camp. Well, really, he’s more captivated by the way Alexander seems so _alive_ \- he never seems to stop. Actually, the only constant is him not letting go of John’s hand the whole time, even as he gestures wildly and jumps around. His eyes shine with pure excitement, which stirs something deep in John’s chest that he’s afraid to try to identify. Finally, Alex stops on the top of a hill overlooking a massive log cabin to breathe, hunching over slightly, taking his hand from John’s as he rasps in air.

“Ah, yes, respiring. I forget- that I have to do- that sometimes.” 

John laughs, a little out of breath as well. “I don’t blame you.” He sneaks a glance over at Alexander, whose face is seemingly glowing, both literally and metaphorically. The sun hovers on the edge of the horizon, just on the brink of setting, and the red-orange light is gleaming off of Alex’s face, seeming to set him aflame. For just a moment, he could swear their eyes meet, and there’s something _there_ , something burning, because already John knows Alex is so like fire; he lives as fire; he is fire. Then it’s gone, and Alex is snatching his hand back, and they’re racing down the hill. John’s a little off-balance, but there’s nothing new there; he’s felt off-balance all day. 

“Dinner hall, which is where we’re going now!” Alex explains in a shout, like he has to yell just to be heard for everything he says. John nods, breathless from running. He tugs him inside, and then the next thing he knows he’s being tugged down to sit next to Mulligan and the three siblings (shit, he’s already forgot their names). Alex is on the other side of Laf, and they’re immediately engaging in conversation broken between French and English. Strangely, it seems to be Alexander who’s trying to drive the conversation into French, while Lafayette snickers and responds in hushed English, as Alex becomes increasingly more flustered and embarrassed-looking. Laurens snorts, definitely not noticing how cute Alex looks when he’s disconcerted, not at all, and turns back to his conversation with the siblings. 

“Er… sorry. I forgot your names.” 

The tall one rolls her eyes.

xxx 

“Shhhhh!” Alex hisses, slapping Laf’s arm angrily. They snicker and recoil a bit, giving him an exaggerated wink. 

“Well…. You’re the one who said he was cute,” they say, eyes sparkling. 

_"Tais-toi, Lafayette, pour l’amour de Dieu,"_ Alex growls out softly, then shoots a furtive glance towards John. “What if he knows French?” 

“See, this is why I didn’t introduce you two before.” Lafayette disregards Alex’s statement. “I knew THIS would happen. You’d both fall into that terrible… how you say… pining stage.” 

_“Ne me donne pas cette merde,_ you baguette fondler. You know English better than half the kids here.” 

Lafayette smirks again, shifting their weight away from Alex just in case they have to run. It’s a subconscious action after knowing Hamilton for 6 years. “Ah, yes, but you’re dodging the question. You are attracted to him, non?” Alex glares at him silently for a moment. 

“CABIN FIVE!” comes a shout, and Alex leaps to his feet quickly. He rushes around Lafayette to Laurens, glad for an excuse to leave the conversation.

“What?” John asks, breaking off from his conversation with the Schuylers. 

“We get to eat dinner,” Alex responds, pulling John up to his feet again (he’s rapidly getting addicted to John’s touch, though he’d never admit it to anyone). 

And, okay, he lets their hands linger together for a second longer than maybe he should before pulling away. 

_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao Alex is already such a lovestruck dork. "Slow down son you met him like three hours ago" - Washingdad probably
> 
> Dodgy French Google Translate Translations: 
> 
> Tais-toi: shut up
> 
> Pour l'amour de Dieu: for the love of God
> 
> Ne me donne pas cette merde: don't give me that shit


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the act of getting dinner, it becomes obvious who the enemy is here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homophobia in this chapter, I guess. Sorry. Also lots of pining, because despite being very outgoing, they're also shy nerds.

John follows the other boy, a little bewildered. Lafayette and Mulligan are trailing along behind the both of them, talking quietly so neither can hear, which makes John more than a little uneasy. In his experience, people trying not to be heard by him are people not to be trusted. Alex glances back and frowns a little, obviously thinking the same thing. John hurries to his side, quickening his pace to keep up with him. 

“What d’you think they’re talking about?” Alex whispers into his ear as soon as the two are side by side, warm breath sounding a tingle down John’s side that he really, really should not be feeling (three hours, John. _Three hours._ Get a grip). 

“Not sure I want to know, to be honest,” John muttered back, mostly joking, and Alex smirks a little. 

“Me neither. Those two’ve been dating since the beginning of the school year, so strike that, I definitely don’t want to know, unless it’s about me,” he shoots a glance at John, “or you, of course.” John nods vehemently (and of course he’s not thinking about how Alex had tagged John on the end like he’s an obvious part of him, no) as they reach the dinner line, and Alex pushes ahead of him, getting all the food the flimsy plastic plate he’d grabbed would hold. Laurens laughs softly, grabbing a plate of his own, and scooping various food onto his plate. Throwing a look over his shoulder, he sees Lafayette and Mulligan disappearing into the bathroom and rolls his eyes, then turns to covertly watches Hamilton, how he seems enthused even with the idea of eating and walking. 

“Oh, dear God. Not another one of Hamilton’s lackeys.” 

John freezes; he knows that voice. Alex tenses as well and turns just as Laurens does to face the speaker. 

“Charles Lee,” John greets with a tight nod, hands curling and uncurling into fists at his sides. “What a pleasure.” His voice is flat. Alex glances between Lee and Laurens, bewildered. 

He leans over to John, not breaking his eye contact with Lee, as if when he blinks, Lee will strike like a predator. “You two know each other? How?” 

“I’m right here, you know,” Lee said, shoulders stiffening. He’s Alex and John’s age. “I’d prefer it if you’d speak to my face.”

Naturally, John ignores Lee. “His dad and my dad were- are- friends. Same views. Same homophobic, racist, sexist, overly-religious views.” Alex grimaces and, without thinking, places his hand on the small of John’s back in comfort, who tenses at the sudden contact, then relaxes. Lee rolls his eyes, shouldering between the two (Alex’s hand falls away from John’s back, of course, and he pretends he doesn’t acutely feel the absence on his skin). They can both see the anger on his face as Lee passes, and the tenseness of his shoulders.

He fires off one a shot before he leaves: “Well, I don’t know what he was thinking when he sent you here, John. If anything, it’s going to make you even more of a gay piece of shit. Especially with Washington in charge.” Lee’s voice is full of smugness with his derision; he knows exactly which buttons to push on both of them. Alex lunges forward with a shout, and John, acting instinctively, leaps and clutches the back of his shirt, dragging him backward. He restrains Alex, firmly grasping his arm. 

“Stop it,” he hisses furiously. “I can fight my own battles, Alexander.” Alex’s breaths are coming quick and his eyes are narrowed to mere slits with anger. 

“He can’t just say that shit about you and Washington and expect for me to let it slide!” Hamilton retorts, trying ferociously to twist out of John’s grasp. On the inside, John is the same- his entire body is set aflame with rage and he wants to kill Lee, but right now, he needs to keep Alex out of danger. Hamilton’s small and light, and Lee is tall and muscular, even though in the hours John has known Alex he’s deduced that he’s a fighter. Alexander would still be no match for Lee in a hand-to-hand fight. 

“Not now.” Laurens looks up and Lee is gone; he’s not surprised. Probably off to tell Washington. Alex slumps in defeat, shaking out of John’s now slack hands. 

“I could have taken him.” 

John closes his eyes, exasperated, and says, “Maybe you could’ve, but it’s the first day I’ve known you, which is too soon for me to run the risk of you getting KILLED.” Alex huffs angrily and picks up his plate again, which he’d apparently set on the serving table before trying to attack Lee. Lafayette and Mulligan hurry up behind them. 

“What happened?” Lafayette gasps, looking back and forth between them- their faces are dark, and their eyes are still burning with anger. 

Neither reply, instead walking back to their table. 

xxx 

Alexander was honestly shocked it had taken him until now to try to fight Lee. Granted, Washington had warned him against getting into fights in general ever since he’d been adopted by him (yes, he goes to a camp run by his foster dad. But, seriously, it’s a damn good camp and Washington’s a damn good dad. Laf’s taken to calling him Washingdad, which Alex does not secretly hilarious, despite Lafayette’s repeated cajoling), but still, he’d never liked Lee in the first place, and the enmity had swiftly deepened over the six years. John obviously felt the same. 

Which brought him to the next point of mental discussion: why did Laurens try to pull him back? 

Evidently, he had far more cause to hate Lee than Alexander did- hell, it was just some quiet rumors behind Alex’s back in his case. But from the way they spoke… He had a sneaking feeling that the two had some bad blood between each other. 

That’s not important, now, though; right now they’re eating dinner and Alex is pointing out literally everybody he knows and giving his completely biased account of them. 

“Oh, and that’s Maria, Eliza’s been crushing on her since last summer…” 

Eliza yelps indignantly and slaps his arm. _“Shh!”_ Alex snickers and leans away from her, right into John. 

“Save me!” he shrieks in mock fear, holding up his hands to cover his face even as he laughs. John snorts and puts up his fists, hoisting a look of overexaggerated ferocity onto his face that even Angelica laughs at. Alex shoves away, suddenly painfully conscious that he’s practically laying right on top of John.

He quickly tries to save his composure (and trying not to blush, though he fails on both counts). 

“Anyway, sorry…” 

Much later, Laurens, Mulligan, Lafayette, and Hamilton are all perched on their respective beds, though they’re all on their bottom bunks as they talk. Alex quietly admires how easily John has managed to fit in with them- they all ardently believe the same things, they laugh at the same humor, they’re afraid of identical terrors. It’s amazing, really, how he feels so close to someone he’s known for less than a day. He watches John’s face while trying not to watch him, much less notice the way that his smile seems to light up his entire face, or that his eyes shine even when he’s not beaming in that fantastic way that Alex is rapidly becoming infatuated with. Even now, Laurens throws his head back with laughter at something Mulligan said, and his elation is etched into every line of his body. Alex is transfixed. He tries to do what he always does when he meets someone new- analyze their personality, see what makes them sad or angry or happy, try to play to it, but he just _can't_ \- he keeps on getting distracted by Laurens, the very person he’s actually trying to read.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened earlier?” 

A sinking feeling. Hamilton watches out of the corner of his eye as the joy drains out of John’s expression. He realizes he’s the one who’s going to have to say it. 

“I almost fought Charles Lee.” 

Lafayette shrugs, smirking a little. “I am not surprised, though you would’ve been destroyed.” John inclines his head a little, expression filled with an emotion Alex can’t quite place. 

“That’s true. I had to stop him from throwing himself at Lee.” 

“Don’t do that, John. God, Laf, Herc, if you’d heard the shit Lee said about him and Washington, you would’ve been trying to throw a punch too.” 

“You need to learn to control your temper, _mon petit lion,_ ” Lafayette mumbles with a smirk, half to himself. 

John tips his head. “My little lion?” Alex tenses. _Oh, shit, he knows French. That… poses a problem._ Alex very much hopes he hadn’t understood what he’d said to Lafayette before dinner. 

“Ah! _Tu connais le Français? Tu auriez dû me le dire, mon ami!”_

John chuckles. “Very little. Not worth mentioning. Why?” 

Alex sighs, _“Parce que je suis couramment, et Lafayette, eh bien…”_

“Anyway. Yes, ‘little lion’, because while we dwarf him in physical size, he is very angry, and always wants to fight.” Lafayette studies him, a smile twitching at the edge of their lips.

“Awww…” John teases, though his smile is glowingly sincere. 

“Oh, shut up, Laurens,” Alex mutters, crossing his arms. There's a small smile on his face. He hides it. 

xxx 

Late at night, after everyone else is asleep, John tests the teasing endearment on his tongue, though he's not sure why. 

“Mon petit lion,” Laurens whispers to himself, and it feels good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. Also, in case you didn't already know (90% of the fanfic-reading population does) Hamilton was called "petit lion" by his friends in the army in real life. So, yeah. Weird endearments all around! 
> 
> Hopefully you really liked this chapter, and even more hopefully it was enough to make you want to leave a comment or some kudos! Thanks for all the great feedback on the other chapters!
> 
> Translations (again, dodgy Google Translate. Don't judge me, I'm trying to learn French): 
> 
> Mon petit lion: my little lion
> 
> Tu connais le Français? Tu auriez dû me le dire, mon ami: You know French? You should have told me, my friend
> 
> Parce que je suis couramment, et Lafayette, eh bien: Because I'm fluent, and Lafayette, well...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's morning. Everyone's tired, especially Washingdad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops. I never wanted to wait for it. So hopefully this is worth it! I wouldn't have had time to post tomorrow, so have this really early! 
> 
> Still:
> 
> Two chapters in one day? [Reynolds Pamphlet voice] _Damn_

He never learns. 

That’s the one thing racing frantically through Alex’s mind as he lays back on his lumpy camp mattress and tries to sleep. He’d been awakened by whispering below. Unintelligible, and he wished it wasn’t. In that moment, Alex would’ve given the world to know what John had said so softly and fearfully. Which is stupid, because they're JUST FRIENDS. _Probably not even that,_ Alex thinks ruefully. 

Dawn is a long time coming. 

When the sun begins to finally peek out from under the horizon, he leaps out of bed, no longer having any qualms about waking Laurens, Mulligan, or Lafayette. Which he does. 

John rolls over on his bunk and falls out of it with a muffled yelp. “Alexander!” Alex snickers softly before rushing over to him. 

“Are you alright?” 

John peeks out of the blankets; only his head is showing. Apparently, when he fell, he’d taken the blankets with him. 

“This floor is wood. Wood is hard,” he mutters blearily, wincing a little. Alex tries to help him up, but Alex is too small, and the end result is just Laurens falling on top of him, laughing. Alex may be pinned to the floor, but he’s laying on blankets, and John is on top of him (and yes, it’s completely innocent, so _don’t even do that to yourself, Hamilton)_ , and they’re both laughing in the endless way friends do; he actually couldn’t be happier. 

“Get a room,” Lafayette growls sleepily, throwing a pillow at them that solidly hits Alex in the face, which makes John, who’s been trying to disentangle himself the whole time, just fall back down in another bout of laughter. _God, his laugh is beautiful,_ Alex thinks, and there he is again with that ludicrous pining. _I have to stop this,_ he hisses to himself halfheartedly. 

Finally, they manage to get free of the blankets, and each other, and suddenly it’s very, very awkward. Alex doesn’t meet his gaze as he pulls some clothes from his suitcase (Dammit- he needs to unpack. They’ve each got their own dressers for a reason), and John does the same. Somewhere across the room, he can sense Lafayette rolling their eyes. 

Mulligan leaps off the top bunk and hits the ground with a thud and a shout of pain, though he quickly recovers- he’s been doing this for years. “What time is it?” he asks rhetorically, checking his watch. “Oh my _God_ , Hamilton, 6 AM? It’s fucking summer vacation.” Alex snorts and walks into the closet to get changed, not bothering to dignify him with an answer. 

A moment later, he pops out. “HEY GUYS, I’M OUT OF THE CLOSET!” Laurens and Lafayette burst out laughing, while Mulligan just rolls his eyes.

“You’re all idiots,” he mutters. 

xxx 

It’s much later when they finally trek out of their cabin, Alex chattering ceaselessly, pausing only for breath, and the other three men interjecting when they can. While Hamilton argues in a completely friendly way with Hercules, John turns to Lafayette. 

“So… You really couldn’t have told me this was a theatre camp rather than a “pray the gay away” camp or whatever over text at the very least?” 

Lafayette chuckles a little, but before they can reply, Alex cuts in. “Trust me, man, we’re the gayest of the gays, and you can’t get rid of us no matter who you try to pray to.” John snickers. 

Mulligan shoves at Alex. “Y’know, you say you’re gay a lot for a bisexual.” Alex shrugs, smirking, and goddamnit, did he just wink at John? He can’t help the thrill that rushes through him, both at Alex’s meaningful grin and Mulligan’s words. 

Lafayette laughs, now, too, grinning at Hamilton and wiggling their eyebrows. “Lady-killer and man-killer.” 

“Damn, Laf, you’re making me sound like some sort of murderer!” Alex exclaims, pretending to smile evilly. 

“Oh, please, Alex; we all know you played Sweeney Todd back in the freshman year. Who’s to say the traits didn’t live on?” Laf demanded, pushing lightly at Alex’s side. All four roar with laughter, and John swings an arm around Alex’s shoulder, leaning on him a little, awkwardness of earlier all but forgotten. 

“They ought to make a musical for the countless conquests of Alexander Hamilton!” Lafayette crows as they reach the dining hall for breakfast. 

“Ugh, can you imagine?” Hercules snorts, taking a seat. He mimics Alex’s voice, except it sounds a lot more like Mickey Mouse’s in the end. “Hey guys, I’m Alexander Hamilton! I’m a killer of females and males!” He points finger guns at the John and throws him an over-exaggerated wink. “I’m at your service, sir.” Lafayette is in stitches at this point, and John isn’t much better, while Alex looks on, pouting overdramatically. 

“Humph. I’m much hotter than that, Herc.” 

Lafayette laughs much harder, and drops their head onto the table, shoulders shaking with mirth. 

Alex frowns at them. Privately, John very much agrees with Alex, but he seriously doubts that’s something he should say aloud. Ever. 

After breakfast, an authoritative-looking man strides up to the four of them, and Alex grins winningly at him. 

“Son, did you try to fight Charles Lee?” The man sounds kind of resigned, which is highly amusing. Alex smiles wider, eyes betraying his tenseness. 

“Yes, sir! He was talking shit about you!” he says, tone a little angry. 

“Alexander, how many times have I told you not to call me sir?” the man sighs, looking tired. Somehow, the words convey the unsaid: that he’s disappointed in Alex for starting shit, for calling him “sir”, for nearly getting in a fight. Alex’s posture droops, and the fake smile slides off his face. 

“Sorry, Washington.” 

Washington squeezes his shoulder, then walks away. 

Alex stares at his empty plate for a moment before picking it up and jogging off to throw it away. After exchanging a swift glance with Lafayette and Hercules, John follows at a run to catch up. 

“What was that about?” 

Alex turns to him, and his eyes, normally so kind and warm, are sharp, and for a moment John is afraid he’s going to shout at him.

Instead, he just sighs. “John, Washington is my foster dad. I just don’t like it when people talk down to me. I love him a lot, and he’s one of the best father figures I’ve had. Actually, the only father figure I’ve had since… well, a while. I don’t like the weird titles we give our parents. Hell, I don’t even know if I called my birth father “dad”. I don’t know. Washington’s always tried to keep me out of fights, like a good parent, but,” Alex shrugs, “no one ever really does that successfully.” John can hear the double meaning and threat in his voice- at some point, Lee will go down. And, normally, he’d be annoyed, but honestly, whatever Alexander may or may not have planned for Lee will never be as bad as what he did to John. He shudders involuntarily and turns his attention back to Alex. 

“Right, sorry, Alex. That… I understand.” 

Hamilton smiles, visibly relaxing, and briefly touches his hand to John’s without thinking, then pulls away, as if confused. They both toss their paper plates in the trash in unison, then walk back towards the table. 

And, okay, if Laurens lets himself drift a little closer to Alexander so their shoulders brush every couple steps just for the elation that he gets from the contact, well, it’s an accident. At least, that’s the story he’ll tell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you really really liked that and are invested enough to go on to the next chapter!
> 
> *randomly blows a thank-you kiss at all of the people who have commented before and people who will maybe comment later or now*


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second day of camp is uneventful in the best possible way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws confetti around* THIS IS KIND OF A FILLER CHAPTER BUT IT'S FLUFFY AND FUN SO READ IT ANYWAY

Once everyone including the Schuyler siblings are done with breakfast, they nonverbally and unanimously decide to go to the lake. Why, exactly, no one’s sure. But it’s just what happens anyway. 

Some people are catching up, but Alex is, as is normal, cheerfully arguing with Angelica. “Wait, Angelica… So I hear that you had a thing with Jefferson last year.” 

She rolls her eyes. “Y’know, Hamilton, I don’t think that’s your problem." 

“It’s my problem if you dated my arch-nemesis over last summer.” He flings out his arms, nearly slapping John in the face. “WHO’S TO SAY I CAN EVEN TRUST YOU ANYMORE???” 

“Alex!” Eliza laughs, smacking him lightly on the shoulder. “It’s Angelica!” 

“EXACTLY.” 

Eliza tips her head, considering, a tiny smirk playing on her lips. “Fair.” Angelica places her hand over her heart. 

“Betrayed even by my own sister! This is treason!” she laments overdramatically, and Alex snickers. 

“You see, Ange? Can’t trust anyone,” Alex declares triumphantly, crossing his arms. “Not even your own kin.” 

Angelica glances over at Peggy, raising an eyebrow. “Is anyone on my side here?” 

“Nope,” Peggy shoots back, slinging an arm around Alex’s shoulder. Laurens, Mulligan, and Lafayette all make some affirmative motion, and the next thing Alex knows, John is looping his arm around Alex too, and they’re very, very close, this time voluntarily, and it feels like he’s going to explode. His scattered thoughts, however, are interrupted by Angelica (but then, that’s nothing new).

“Does anybody even know why they’re ganging up against me?” Angelica sighs as they continue to walk. Everyone shakes their heads and gives her a giant grin except Alex and Eliza, who glance at each other, amused. Alex, however, is operating on autopilot because he’s completely taken in by how close John is to him, the way that they’re pressed closely together and the fact that he still hasn’t moved yet, unlike Peggy, Mulligan, and Lafayette, who have all drifted away from him. Mulligan and Lafayette are doing couple-y things while Peggy teases them both, and Eliza is prodding at Angelica and arguing in a sisterly way, Their dynamic is amazing, thinks Alex, and he loves his friends so much in that moment as the sun shines down on them, bathing them in comfortable warmth, and the lake comes into view, water fractured and rippling with light. 

“So what are we doing here, exactly?” John asks over the loud conversations between the others. 

“Well, first full day is unstructured so that the newbies can figure out what the hell is going on and the old-timers can basically just fuck around,” Alex says nonchalantly. “One of the best days, I think, except for all the other days which are equally as great, but in different ways.” 

John smiles a bit, not quite meeting his eyes, and quickens his pace to catch up with Mulligan and Lafayette. Alex has no qualms in staying behind and watching him go. _Honestly, Laurens is the one who should be called the lion,_ he ponders offhandedly - Alex possesses none of the easy grace, beauty, and power that John channels without even trying. He sighs involuntarily, _longingly_ , then realizes how ridiculous he sounds even to himself and races forward so he’s walking with all his friends (everybody he deeply cares about stands in this valley, which both terrifies him and fills him with this warm feeling he can’t quite shake) are walking together as they reach the waterfront. 

They split up quickly and without saying a word, just as before. Alex leaves to sit on the shore, John hesitates, and everyone else rushes into the water. It’s pretty damn early- even if Alex was in the mood to swim, which he rarely is, the water would still be intensely cold, which would immediately make it not worth it. Laurens sits next to him after a moment of deliberation, staring out over the rippling water. Alex glances a little to his side, unable to tear his eyes away from what may be his new friend, admires the way his curls fall over his ear and the sun glints in his eyes. He still isn’t quite sure what color they are- they seem to be almost shifting, like a kaleidoscope. John glances over at him, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his lips, and Alex’s heart flips over. 

xxx 

“Not much for swimming?” John asks nonchalantly after a time of natural silence between them and laughter between their friends. Alex’s shoulders tense ever so slightly; John pretends not to notice. 

“No,” Hamilton responds, voice sharper than he probably intended. John shrugs, opting not to ask questions, and lies back on the ground, letting the sun warm up his muscles, which are still stiff from a night in a lumpy bed, though he’s sure he’ll get used to it. It’s completely worth it, all that discomfort. Even if it’s just for this moment. He watches Alex from the corner of his eyes, and, okay, he’s absolutely admiring him. _God, he’s beautiful,_ he murmurs to himself before he can stop himself. The fact that he’s at a camp he believed to be a place that would try to eradicate his sexuality while being as gay as humanly possible is the most amazing thing he’s ever experienced. Though really, Laurens wasn’t sure if even that could match the anomaly that is Alexander. 

He hopes he’s not blushing too much.

Alex catches his gaze and smiles a little. His eyes are soft in the morning sun, and they’re unfathomably deep. Laurens feels like he’s drowning, but in the best way possible, drowning in light. He glances away, and he’s definitely blushing now, because Alex chuckles lightly, the smile blossoming into something so much brighter _(shit, shit, don’t kiss him, John, whatever you do-)_

Then- 

“Hey, Hamilton!” shouts somebody, and the moment is gone. Alex turns around, eyes flashing with something between anger and happiness. 

“Ah, Jefferson! It was a quiet school year without you!” 

John turns his head and catches sight of two boys cresting the hill. They look strangely like Lafayette and Mulligan, but different, somehow. Tiny changes that make them completely different. 

“My life was exponentially more peaceful without you,” the guy who’s theoretically Jefferson grumbles, loping down the hill to stand above Alexander. 

“What’re you doing back here- did they kick you out of France?” Alex questions, an evil smirk on his face. The light he gets in his eyes when he fights with someone is there, but it’s tempered- the way he battles Jefferson is affectionately. It’s an old rivalry, one that neither can be bothered to drop because it’s so damn fun, John can tell, and, honestly, it’s endearing. 

Jefferson catches sight of him at that moment. “Oh God, not another one,” he groans, throwing his head back overdramatically, curls bouncing around his face. Almost word for word what Lee said, but it seems more teasing, even friendly, this way. 

“Yep!” Alex replies proudly, grinning over at John in away that makes him feel like he’s floating. “But, hey, answer my question.” 

Jefferson pouts ridiculously. “Well, I got bored without having you to bicker with all the time.” He gestures obtusely, then races over to the lake without warning and leaps in. His friend sighs good-naturedly and follows at a jog. 

“Friend of yours?” Laurens asks, amused. 

“Well, you could say,” Alex mutters, and John chuckles and rolls over so that he’s facing Alex instead of just watching out of the corner of his eyes. “The arch-nemesis I was talking about would be more accurate.”

“Reeally,” John says, drawing out the word, and Alex rolls his eyes.

“I’ve got a reputation to live up to, Laurens.” 

John snorts and props himself up on his elbows, cocking his head at Alexander. His face is ridiculously serious, but his eyes are full of mirth, and John grins. 

“And what reputation is that, _Hamilton?_ ” 

Alex huffs and crosses his arms, turning his head away as if he can’t even bear to look at him. “My dear Laurens, you insult me!” John laughs and elbows him. 

“That ego of yours, Alexander…” 

They continue to banter back and forth as the day passes, sometimes joining their friends in the lake, and before they know it, it’s sunset again. The day has run away from them, but never has it been better spent, even if there is one truth he just can’t push away: John’s heart had jumped a little at the endearment, even if it was meant in jest. 

Which can mean only one thing: _this is not going to end well._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo! You've all been so kind to me about this fic, so thank you so much! I've been trying to update as much as I can, but there's unfortunately this dark cloud on my activity's horizon (e.g. finals plus parents). So hopefully I'll keep this up! Please drop a comment or a kudos if you even sort of liked this! I live off of your feedback.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nighttime at Camp Forge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot really begins to kick up next chapter, so get ready. 
> 
> Fun fact: I've been making this eNTIRE STORY up on the fly, and I don't know what romance is. ENJOY ANYWAY I LOVE YOU ALL THANKS FOR BEING ABSOLUTE ANGELS

It’s nearly midnight, and they’re all still awake. No one (Lafayette, Mulligan, Laurens, or Peggy, who had snuck into their cabin at lights out just to prove they could) seems even in the slightest interested in the fact that tomorrow, the camp would really begin. Tomorrow, they would get their scripts and begin to read through. The costume group would begin sketching out ideas and color schemes, the tech group would start work on lighting and sound and so much more, the choreographers would start dreaming of how the actors would move across the stage… Alex couldn’t stop the sigh of contentment that flew from him as he imagined. 

“What’s up, Alex? Never known you to be so quiet,” Peggy teases, their grin bright. They toss the flashlight at him, and it hits him in the face. Everyone snickers. It’s been a thing ever since they met- on Alex’s second year of camp, Peggy’s first; he’d forgotten to bring a pencil to the first rehearsal so he could record blocking, and they’d thrown one at him. It had hit him hard in the face, and the world had never been the same. He now had to look out for projectiles being flung at his head whenever Peggy was anywhere in the vicinity. 

The group has been chucking around the flashlight to whoever was talking for seemingly no reason. 

He flicks it on, letting it light up his face. “Oh, not much. And as for silence, honestly, guys, you’d think I never stopped for breath the way you drone on and on about it,” Hamilton says defensively. Peggy chuckles. “Anyway, who d’you idiots think is going to take the lead role this year?” Lafayette snorts and rolls his eyes. 

“Look, Ham, if you’re looking for flattery, just ask,” Mulligan muttered, smirking. Alex gasps fakely, placing his hand over his heart. 

“You insult me!” 

John pokes his head out from where he’s been hiding in the bottom bunk so he can look at Alex, who’s on his top bunk. “Oh please. We all know you’ll star.” He hops off of his bed and climbs up, sitting next to Alex, who huffs angrily, though inside he’s preening under the praise. He’s pretty sure Peggy rolls their eyes at him in exasperation. 

“What do you think you’ll-” 

Hamilton’s question is cut off by a resounding knock at the door. “Cabin 5, please shut up. The 12-year-olds can hear you from across the valley-” Alex winces; it’s Washington’s voice and he fucking knew he shouldn’t’ve let Peggy in, them being the loudest person he has ever had the displeasure of knowing. “-and they’re requesting that I put some duct tape over all of your mouths. Also, Peggy, please return to your sisters. You’re not nearly as stealthy as you think.” 

Peggy laughs brightly, flashing them a smile dripping with sarcasm, and opens the door. “Well, it’s been great, guys!” 

Washington rolls his eyes at all of them in general and leads them across the grass to Cabin 6, where the other Schuylers are. 

John snorts. “Is he always like this?” 

“All the time,” Alex grumbles, watching the door swing closed behind the two disappearing figures. 

Cabin 5 proceeds to stay awake for another couple hours (2 AM, if the digital clock in the corner of the room is anything to go off of). At that point, Alex is so tired after an eventful day that he just drops off to sleep, and, honestly, who cares where? 

xxx 

Alexander Hamilton is sleeping on top of John Laurens, who thinks he might spontaneously combust. 

The talking had died down shortly after Alex had fallen asleep, to absolutely nobody’s surprise, and now he was slumped on top of John, head resting on his shoulder. John is propped up against the wall by Alex’s pillow, and his arm is slung across John’s chest. He’s afraid, almost, to move. He’s known this man for approximately 36 hours, so, proportionally, this infatuation is ridiculous and also kind of terrifying, because if he’s got it this bad in that short amount of time… shit. He’s in trouble. 

John also can’t tear his eyes away, mentally tracing every line of his body. The way Alex’s ebony hair spills over his shoulders and drops onto John’s chest, how he curls ever so slightly into John, the slight upward curve of his lips… Alexander is such a different man when he sleeps. His fiery personality seems to die down a bit, wildfire turning into a candle, and the hard, ferocious angles of his face relax into a look of calm innocence that he’d likely never wear in real life. 

He thanks anyone out there that the people who would tease him for this are currently sleeping. 

Laurens finds himself keeping his eyes open just for the sake watching Alex sleep, because he’s fucking adorable and there’s also no way in hell he’d manage to drift off with the other man draped so casually over him. About an hour of his silently watching his friend(?), Alex twitches suddenly and makes a scared whimpering sound. John tenses, then forces himself to relax so he doesn’t alarm him. Instead, he wraps his arms hesitantly around Alexander and pulls him slightly closer. He winces instinctively, waiting for the boy to lash out and push him away, but instead, he makes a tiny noise of contentment that makes Laurens’s heart flutter; he curls closer to John and tightens his arms around him. John feels warm in the best way possible- he’s never felt this heat before and found it so pleasant. Alex nuzzles into his chest, and it feels like his heart is going to swell past the breaking point. 

They are near-strangers locked in a lover’s embrace, and he’s never been happier in his pathetic excuse for a life.

xxx 

Alex awakens to find himself wrapped around a certain John Laurens, and almost screams. 

 

It’s before dawn, he notices- light hasn’t yet begun to stream through the windows, and the digital clock reads 4:56 AM. So, the sun will rise soon. Fine. Just enough time to get himself out of a predicament, that, quite honestly, he doesn’t want to get out of. Alex is comfortable _(actually, comfortable is an understatement)_ in John’s arms, and is more than content in just feeling this man’s body against his. It’s absurdly amazing, and that’s not something he wants to give up. 

Unfortunately, judging by the pulse in the chest which Alex’s head is resting on, John is probably very much awake. 

Slowly, very slowly, Hamilton begins to disentangle himself from Laurens, slipping his arms away, trying and failing to ignore how cold he feels now. He leans back and sits up against the frame of the bed a couple feet from John, and waits for him to acknowledge his existence. 

John’s eyes open slowly, blearily, and he rolls over, adjusting his position so he can see Alex better. “Hey,” he mumbles, looking completely unperturbed by the idea that they’d maybe been in an incredibly intimate embrace. So either Laurens was a way better actor than Alex had bargained for, or he’d actually been asleep. He’s kind of conflicted as to which one he wants to be true. 

“Hi,” Alexander whispers back. “Sorry I fell asleep on you.” Now he’s blushing, _goddamnit,_ and this wasn’t how that conversation was supposed to go. Actually, Alex kind of just wants to kiss him because he looks so damn cute, lashes falling dark against his skin, freckles like the galaxy is laid across his face, hair in unruly curls… _Stop it,_ he reprimands himself. _Focus._

John smiles lopsidedly and props himself up on his elbows. “No, it’s alright.” And just like that, it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys next chapter we're injecting some drama into this story (both literal and figurative...). 
> 
> (also yeah sue me the "peggy throws shit at alex" thing is too much fun for me)
> 
> So be prepared, and in the meantime, drop a comment and throw me some kudos because I literally love those so much! I appreciate all your kind comments, even if I don't respond to them!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It begins to rain, and Angelica and John have a chat, which John walks out of terrified.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys please enjoy! I wrote this really quickly and I don't edit! We actually get started on the play next chapter!

John drifts back off and wakes up disappointed, because the whole thing feels like a dream- Alex is on the other side of the bed, curled up against the wooden railing of the bunk, and John is leaning against the pillow. He lets out a tiny hiss of pain when he moves his neck; he’s slept in a bad position. Glancing up, Laurens meets Alex’s dark eyes from across the bed, who looks away quickly. Alexander’s knees are drawn up to his chest, and his eyes are wide open.

“What’s wrong?” John asks softly, scooting a little closer. Alex swallows and presses himself against the edge of the railing. 

“Storm’s coming,” he whispers in return, voice shaking a little, and Laurens realizes his eyes are fixed on the window over his head, where storm clouds are looming over the valley. John tilts his head at Alex. 

“Will you be alright?” 

Alex takes in a deep breath, eyes on a far off point, looking at nothing. “When I was eleven, I was not having a poster year. My mother got sick, my father didn’t have enough money to support her so he left. Then she… died. I was on my own. A hurricane hit. I had no way of knowing. I survived; few others were so lucky.” His face is twisted into a bitter grimace, and his nails are digging into the sides of his legs as he stares into space. Laurens hesitantly advances some more. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I know it’s not any help, but I’m sorry.” 

“I’ll be alright,” Alexander replies, but it sounds sharper than it should be. A warning to back off, not reassurance. John shifts his weight backwards and hops from the top bunk to the ground. He winces; Hercules hadn’t been exaggerating how much it hurt. Glancing around warily, he sees a note on the door in flowing, elegant script: 

_“At breakfast. Meet us there soon, loverboys! - Laf”_ and then in blocky capital letters beside the signature, _“AND ALSO MULLIGAN”_. Laurens flushes and tears it down from the door. Alex turns his head slightly to look at him. 

“What is it?” 

“Laf and Mulligan are at breakfast.” 

Alexander relaxes a bit and follows him down, still in pajamas. 

John smiles slightly. “You going to get dressed?” He watches as Alex builds a wall over his weakness and trauma, flinging himself wholeheartedly into the day, and he admires him for it. He’s sure that, if he had been in the same position, he would have far more trouble recovering. Something stirs in his heart, something he never thought he'd feel for the other boy- deep respect. Alex stretches his arms in the air lazily. 

“Nah. No dress code here, Laurens.” He’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and an oversized shirt, and that looks far cuter than it should on him. Laurens forces himself to shrug neutrally, then goes to change in the closet. 

When he comes out, Alex is at the door, watching him impatiently. “Come on, come on! Rehearsal is in an hour!” 

“Rehearsal?” John questions, apprehensive- he hasn’t gotten the script, doesn’t know the play, doesn’t even know if he wants to be in it. He pushes open the door, and they stride outside _(do two boys normally walk so close together? Shit)._

Alex shakes his head, brow furrowed. “No, you’re right; that’s not the right word for it. It’s more like us getting introduced to the soundtrack, what it’s going to be, get some options. Like, you could be in costume- that’s what Mulligan does. He isn’t even in the play, except for his first year. Madison works the main spotlight, has for years. Me, I try to star in it. Same with Laf and the Schuylers. Theatre camp isn’t exclusive to acting; hell, backstage is the most important part of the show. It would be pretty shitty if we didn’t have the tech crew or decent costumes, you know.” Laurens nods along to his words as he continues, not fully understanding, but getting at least the main points. In that way, Hamilton is much like the essays he used to read in history- as soon as you could isolate the main idea, things made a lot more sense. 

Suddenly, thunder rumbles overhead, and Alexander flinches, eyes abruptly going wide. Before John even knows what he’s doing, he’s reaching out to take Alex’s hand. He glances over sharply at John, then relaxes, taking a deep breath. 

“I’ll be okay,” he mumbles, half to himself. John nods without saying a word, unsure of what to do. A fat drop of rain plops down on his head, and he cringes, then pulls Alex along to the dining hall as water begins to pour down on them. When they finally reach the dining hall, they’re both damp and breathing hard. John squeezes Alex’s hand tightly, then releases it. The rain is deafening against the roof; a tumultuous roar of sound over their heads. In silence, they get their food. He can see the concern in their friends’ eyes as they sit down at the table by their side (they must all already know; of course they do). Instinctively, John goes to sit next to Alexander, but before he can do that, Angelica grabs him firmly by the arm and tugs him down to the end of table. Everyone else is out of earshot what with the rain combined with how loudly they’re talking, as if to drown out the sound. Even Angelica’s siblings are with the rest of the group, which, strangely, makes the tallest, most aggressive of the three seem much smaller, less powerful. It’s a weird effect. 

“So,” she says coolly, fixing him with a gaze that reminds him of a predator about to strike (and yes, he’d know- he’s a nature nerd).

 _Oh God,_ thinks John. 

“I’m assuming you know about Alex’s hurricane.” 

John feels the tension in his body relax somewhat. “Er… yes.” Angelica nods thoughtfully, not taking her eyes off him. 

“I feel I should tell you, then. But before that: I am not like the rest of this group. They have different constructs that they use to gauge other people. I do not have any of them. They don’t know this. Peggy, for example, takes a very long time to trust someone, or form a solid opinion. Their idea of a person is easily reformed in the beginning, but takes a lot later on. For them, it’s a constant buildup. For Eliza, it’s quick- you’ll never meet anyone as loving or trusting. She’ll place her heart in your hands, and is not nearly as quick to rip it away. I make snap judgements. I can see a person very soon after meeting them, and I’m very rarely incorrect.” 

John makes an affirmative gesture, more than a little puzzled. “OK…” 

“I can’t figure you out. Which means I need to ask myself this question,” she pauses, staring him hard in the eye. “Can I trust you?” Irrational fear seizes Laurens at this point- Angelica is terrifying, and if he gets this wrong, he feels like she'll rip him apart, limb from limb.

“You can.” 

He hopes he hasn’t said that too quickly, or that she deems him untrustworthy. He doesn’t dare look away, either- she doesn’t even blink as she stares him down. John forces himself not to move, and feels inexplicably like a wolf challenging the alpha.

“Alright, then,” she comments casually after a very long moment. “Alex trusts you, you know, and for him it takes time. We haven’t had a _new one_ in the group since Peggy, and that was five years ago.” 

John raises an eyebrow. The confused looks from the other campers, the ones that make him feel like he's encroaching on private land, suddenly make far more sense, though it’s a strange reason to be staring, to say the least. 

“So here’s the thing- I’m telling you to be careful with Alex. He’s strong but fragile at the same time. Don’t you dare break him. Or any of them. They all trust you an amount disproportionate to the time they actually have known you. Or, well, I’m sure I can manage to arrange an accident including a fall from the catwalk.” She throws him a disarming smile, then releases her grip on his arm _(how had he not noticed she hadn’t let go?)._

Taking in a deep breath, he moves back to sit next to Alexander, despite this new warning. 

_Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn, Angelica. 
> 
> I didn't expect this chapter to be so long, so next chapter we reveal the play and the first "rehearsal" happens.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast, and also angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... trigger warnings I guess for Alex sort of freaking out about the rain but at least handling it well, so I don't know if I have to say that. Fights. Homophobic language. Serious angst and non-graphically described violence. PTSD? I don't know. 
> 
> Enjoy anyway! Also lots of "this could be viewed as platonic but really I'm just infatuated with you" touches. Pining. Etc.

Alex glances over as John takes a seat by his side, looking visibly shaken. A quick look to his other side shows Angelica at the end of the table, looking very pleased. He can connect the dots. 

“So… What happened?” he asks, trying to be casual and probably failing. Definitely failing, judging by the sarcastic half smile he’s getting from John. 

“I think I got inaugurated into the group, but it felt more like the platonic shovel talk,” Laurens mutters, lightly nudging his shoulder against Alex’s. Normally at this point he’d be making some hilarious yet comforting anecdote, but for a reason he can’t quite place his clever thoughts seem to have fled.

“Hey, you’re one of us now,” Hamilton comments after a short pause that feels far too long to him, grinning brightly and absentmindedly touching his hand to John’s arm. He isn’t usually so obsessed with contact around his friends, except for Lafayette, who seemingly can’t go a minute without doing something that would make whichever friend was in question seem like they were dating them, like a kiss to the cheek or a hug stretching on too long. It’s become a thing, kind of like Peggy throwing random shit at him. John smiles hesitantly, a real smile, in return, and after that breakfast is absolutely perfect even with the storm raging on outside, because he’s got his friends chattering with him; he’s surrounded by people who care and it’s the best feeling in the world. 

Once they finally finish eating (“they” being Alex and John; everyone else got to the hall way earlier) the topic quickly turns to the play- speculation about whether it would be a musical or not, what it would be about, what the lead would be like, who the “villain” would be… Alex could see from the start that John wasn’t well-versed in this sort of conversation. 

“The last time I was in a play was about a decade ago,” he murmurs to Alexander, seemingly reading his thoughts. “Can you imagine?” 

Alex inhales sharply. “No. I can’t. I’m so sorry, Laurens.” Theatre saved him. It was a form of escape, a form of release. He can’t imagine life without it, even with his overactive imagination, and wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. 

“My father…” The last word is said with vicious contempt, enough to make Alex almost shudder. “My father pulled me out of Drama when I was nearly nine. He was okay with me doing it up till then, because, you know, what man are you if you can’t act well enough to pretend like it, at least, then he decided that theatre wasn’t a enough manly activity befitting the son of a senator.” Alex finds himself wishing he knew how to comfort him, wishing most of all that Lafayette had introduced him early so he could at least know him enough to know what made him happy. 

“It doesn’t have to be that way anymore,” Alex whispers. John can't seem to look at him, but glances off to the side. He can still see the melancholy in his eyes regardless. The half-smile is back, but it’s sad now. 

“I suppose not, Alexander.” 

xxx 

Finally, they leave the dining hall. It's still storming outside, and John can't help but keep glancing at Alex worriedly. He seems hunched into himself, like he's trying to hide, but it's not working- it's impossible to miss him. Everyone is sending him looks ranging from pitying to scornful, and it takes all of John’s restraint not to instinctively try to shield him from all the stares he's getting. Or maybe fighting the starers. He's not picky. Instead, he just resorts to sticking close to his friend and glaring at anyone who sets eyes on him. 

“I'll be okay,” Alex growls under his breath to no one in particular. 

“I know, Alexander,” Laurens mutters, touching Alex’s elbow lightly without thinking about it. He shoots John a sharp glare as if by reflex, then turns back quickly, hunching his shoulders again. John pushes open the door, and the sound of rainfall wraps around them. The wind is picking up, blowing torrents of water onto the group. Without a moment’s hesitation, Mulligan is pulling off his sweatshirt and throwing it to Alex, who catches it grudgingly, then puts it on. It’s absurdly oversized, and makes him look like he’s drowning in fabric, which is infuriatingly adorable _(Does he have to look cute in literally everything he wears? It’s an injustice)._ Angelica turns her head to look at Alex and slows down, then catches John’s gaze and speeds back up again.

It suddenly makes sense to John- this is _routine._

They’re used to these storms happening, and even have protocol for it. A discreet way to make sure their friend is safe. His heart swells for Alex.

Laurens immediately drifts closer to Hamilton, letting their shoulders brush and ignoring the electrical charge that shudders up his spine at the contact. Alex jumps a little, startled, and his gaze seeks John’s. Without thinking, Laurens takes his hand and squeezes it absentmindedly; he’s not sure whether it’s for Alex’s sake or his.

They walk in relative peace for the next couple minutes. Alex goes into Cabin Five to get changed, then strides out quickly, feet shuffling. His eyes are wide and dark and full of suppressed fear, but it’s going fine, John thinks. Alex leads the way confidently, a tentative smile growing on his face as they presumably head for the theater.

Until a hulking form appears out of the blinding rain. 

“Aw, if it isn’t the bastard child and the faggot,” Charles Lee sneers. Instinctively, John takes Alex’s hand again; suddenly he’s the one who’s afraid. Lee focuses in on Alex. “Scared of a little rain, whore’s son?” Lee asks, taking a menacing step forward. Alex’s eyes are huge, but the fear is mingled with rage now. Lee laughs and shoves Alex down into the mud like they’re first graders and he’s the sixth grader picking on the little kids (he’d thought he’d left _that_ schoolyard situation behind a decade ago), and John is frozen. 

Not for long, though. 

As soon as Hamilton hits the ground, it’s as if a spell is broken- years of abuse from Lee come to a head, and John launches himself at him. Lee ducks, but John is quick to regain his balance, and throws another punch, going blind with rage. 

“Say it again, you piece of shit!” Laurens yells, aiming for his chest. He hits it, feels something crack under his fist as pain explodes through his hand. 

Lee lets out a shout of pain and falls backward. “You’ll always be nobody, Laurens! Always resorting to violence like some sort of sick kid- that’ll get you nowhere! You’ll grow up and be nothing, you fucking faggot.” There’s a savage glee in his eyes as he picks himself up from the ground. Then he attacks, tackling John to the ground and hitting him again and again. He manages to block most of the blows- the ones that come through are harmless- but his arms are beginning to ache. Rain pours down on his face, washing the blood away, but he can’t fight back. Lee’s face is blurring into his father’s blurring back into Lee, and he’s going to be sick. Suddenly, Lee’s weight is off of him, and there’s Alex, the fire back in his eyes. He’s splattered with mud and dirty and furious, and John has never in his life seen anything more beautiful.

 _“Fuck off,_ Lee,” Alex hisses, advancing. Charles Lee sneers one last time and disappears into the rain. 

xxx 

John is lying on the ground, deathly pale, rivulets of blood trickling down his face. Mud is smeared on him, and bruises are already beginning to blossom on his arms. 

“Oh, God,” Alex whispers, kneeling by his side. 

John rasps, “I’ll be alright,” and slowly props himself up on shaking hands. “I’ve been worse, and at least I got a blow or two in.” 

“I should’ve helped sooner. I’m useless, and I-” 

John grasps his arm a little clumsily, dazed. “Alexander, you were brilliant. I just…” 

Guilt flashes through him. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asks a little awkwardly, lacing their fingers together distractedly. John shakes his head vehemently. 

 

“No. Besides, don’t we have somewhere to be?” 

He’s changing the subject and Alex knows it, but he’s done it enough times to at least understand how John feels, so he nods tensely and helps John to his feet. 

“Yeah, rehearsal. C’mon, let’s go to the theater.” 

John is keeping a careful distance from him as they walk, and Alex doesn’t notice. He doesn’t notice the way John’s eyes dart towards him nervously, or the way his skin is so pale, or how his every step is shaking, or how he stays so far away, as if he’s afraid Alex is going to attack him.

Alexander definitely notices all these things, and his heart hurts for Laurens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that unnecessary? I don't know. Fun to write I guess? 
> 
> (Also: musical appearances here. Except for heights, because smol Alex and tol John are my life. And I wanted Lee to be giant for fear factor. I know I've been saying this for the last several chapters, but for real, we actual start the theatre experience next chapter! Wow!)
> 
> Please, please, please drop a comment! 99% of my motivation comes from those!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They make it to the theater; the play is introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's... really not much I can say except I hope you like it! Explanations at the end. For now, just try not to question it.

At long last, they stagger into the theater one after the other. John is grateful that, at least, it takes a while for bruises to form- the injuries on his arm are faintly red, and after this whatever-it-is (rehearsal? He doesn't know) he can just wear a sweatshirt. It should dispel the chances of getting bad questions, if nothing else. They're both soaking wet and more than a little bruised, but they're okay. The two men sit down next to their friends in the audience. Looking around, John can finally appreciate how amazing the theater really is- it's massive, with a huge stage that has two turntables, and if he cranes his neck he can see the catwalk and the lights. He's been dreaming of a place like this in the back of his conscience since his father forced him to drop Drama, and can't help the contented sigh he lets out. Alex turns and gives him a tentative smile. _Shit, I probably scared him with the whole Lee business,_ he thinks with a pang. Laurens grins a little back, reassuringly, and settles back to look at the stage as Washington comes on, probably to talk to them as group. 

Meanwhile, Laf, Herc, and the Schuylers are peppering them with urgent, hissed questions which Alex and John collectively ignore. 

“Hello, everyone, and officially welcome to Camp Forge!” 

Everyone next to John explodes into whoops and cheers, Alex loudest of all. The whole camp is gathered in the theater, and there's room for twice as many. 

“This is the part where the people who have been here before can fall asleep, because you've heard this. Tell your friends to wake you up when I announce this summer’s production!” 

Laurens furtively sneaks a look at Alexander, whose eyes are practically glowing with excitement and happiness. A huge grin is on his face, the one that makes John feel like he's been lit up inside, the one that makes his heart stutter. 

“So here's how it's going to work: we've got two sections, Juniors and Seniors. Juniors are people from 8th to 10th grade, and Seniors are people from 11th to people going into college. We’ll have a separate cast for each age group. Of course, you don't necessarily have to be onstage in the show- if tech is more up your alley, or choreography, or whatever you want is your thing, you can do that too. However, we would like the techs and costumers to perform in their age group’s play, though it's completely your choice. Even if you just want to be in the ensemble.” Washington pauses. “Are you getting all of this?” 

John is, sort of. He kind of wants to work the spotlight, but on the other hand, he's missed being onstage _in_ the spotlight for _so fucking long._ He ends up zoning out, lost in thought, only half-listening to Washington.

“OK, OLD-TIMERS, TIME TO WAKE UP!” 

Alex startles a little, jerking his arm wildly. John snickers under his breath and nudges him teasingly, and the other boy glares at him in mock reproach. Under the intensity of Alexander’s dark gaze, if he tries, he can almost forget what happened out in the rain. 

“I'm proud to announce that this year’s musical will be…” Washington lets the silence stretch out dramatically; Alex is practically bouncing in his seat. “MIRANDA!” 

Lafayette claps their hands together excitedly. “Yes! I love that musical!” Alex frowns at them. 

“How is there a musical I don't know? This is insanity!” Alex throws out his arms, a scandalized but amused and attentive look on his face. 

Mulligan snorts and rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat as Washington passes out the scripts and practice CDs with the original cast recording.

Lafayette gestures, hands flitting about wildly, as they talk, enthusiastic. “I don't know how to explain it… It's about the American Revolution, yes? But not really, because the main focus is on this man named Lin-Manuel Miranda, hence the title.”

Laurens, inexplicably, actually feels a twinge of excitement. “Y’know, this could be fun. History. Drama.” 

“It will be, I bet you anything,” Alex comments, a grin already wide on his face. “This is gonna be great!” 

“Well… I suppose it would be cool to make the costumes.” Herc’s eyes are beginning to shine a bit as he thinks of the possibilities, though his tone is grudging and apathetic. 

Washington finally makes his way to the group and tosses four scripts and CDs at them. “Enjoy,” he says, with the look of a man who knows he's won. 

xxx 

“We’re going to start by playing the first song,” Washington announces, leaping back onto the stage with the youth of a much younger man. The theatre kids break off their conversations and watch the man with rapt attention, the kind you definitely don’t normally get from rambunctious, overdramatic actors who still aren’t at all mature. Alex is bouncing in his seat- again, he knows, but still, how can he help being excited- as Washington plugs his phone into an aux cord which is in turn plugged into a speaker. For a moment before it starts, he turns his head to watch Laurens. His eyes are riveted to the stage, full of a focus he only sees in a mirror. And they’re beautiful- how did he not notice? They are the kind that poets rhapsodize about for countless pages. He’s jerked out of his sudden reverie by opening counts that are simply thrumming with blaring sound kicks up his heart rate and he doesn’t know _why;_ just knows that this is it. 

“How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore-” 

Alex sucks in a deep breath, hands tightening on the armrests of a chair. He can feel John’s worried gaze on him. 

“-and a Scotsman dropped in the middle of a forgotten spot in the Caribbean by providence impoverished in squalor-” 

This is too personal; what the hell was Washington thinking? How is this musical describing _who he is?_ It’s fucking taunting him. Is this some sort of a cruel joke played by his foster father? 

“-grow up to be a hero and scholar?” 

Alex relaxes a little involuntarily and turns his head to meet John’s gaze, which has calmed down a bit in reaction to him. His friend sighs and leans back in his chair. 

“The ten-dollar founding father without a father-” 

“This is about the guy on the ten-dollar bill?” Alex hisses to Lafayette; he can’t help himself. 

“Hell, yeah. Now shut up and listen.” Lafayette shoves him away lightly, a smile on their face.

“-by fourteen, they placed him in charge of trading charter.”

Angelica leans around Laf and Herc. “Damn, makes you seem like an underachiever.” Alex covers his mouth, snickering quietly. He listens in silence for a couple more moments, his heart twisting with every word. 

This song describes his childhood. 

The hurricane. He only wished he had gained the respect of his town, like Miranda had. 

“Lin-Manuel Miranda, my name is Lin-Manuel Miranda. And there's a million things I haven't done- but just you wait, just you wait…” 

The abandonment of his father. The death of his mother. The suicide of his cousin. John’s hand has found his, and his other friends are sneaking worried glances at him, like they're not sure what to do. 

“Lin, you gotta fend for yourself…” 

As soon as the shock wears off, though, the song is perfect. It's a fucking work of art, if he's being honest. 

And he wants nothing more than to play Miranda. 

“What's your name, man?”

“Lin-Manuel Miranda!” 

The song is over, heavy, booming chords ceased, and strangely, Hamilton feels liberated. It's the best thing he's ever felt, as if he's poured out his heart. The effect was almost cathartic, in a way. He’s… light, like a feather, as if all the weights have been taken from his shoulders. 

John turns, looks at him. “You alright, Alexander?” he whispers, just loud enough to be heard over the impromptu applause from the other kids. 

“I'm great, Laurens.” He can't keep the huge (probably manic) grin off his face. John smiles back at him, a real smile, and squeezes his hand before letting go. It's not much, but it's enough to make his heart flip over and his skin miss the contact. 

“Okay, kids, that concludes the rehearsal! Listen to the music, do your research! I'll see you tomorrow! Auditions are in a month!” 

Alex groans softly. He knows why Washington does that- it's so they can get completely comfortable with musical and their place in it, gives them time to think about what they want that place to be. Still. He knows what he wants, too. No thought required. 

“So, that was great,” Peggy declares as they walk outside together, summing up all their thoughts as they laugh.

“Damn right,” Alex mutters under his breath, catching John’s (beautiful, fantastic, captivating) gaze.

“I think this is going to be the time of our lives,” John murmurs, hardly audible over the rest. He's looking out into the rain, which has softened to a mist. Shafts of light stream down through the gaps. Alexander beams at him, gives an imperceptible nod. Happiness is buoying up inside him, events of the morning faded with the rain, events of the future brightening and flowing with the sun, and yes, he's genuinely satisfied. More than satisfied. Sunshine gleams off the faces of his friends, making them seem ethereal.

_Oh, I know it will._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, here we go: "Miranda" is, as I'm sure you gathered, an AU version of Hamilton. They are literally the historical people with their names changed to match the cast (e.g. Lin is historical Hamilton, the guy on the ten-dollar bill). In this universe, there is a set of people performing this on Broadway (e.g. Sebastian writes and stars in his musical), and they act as our world's Lins and Pippas. With any luck, this makes sense.
> 
> Aaaaanyway. Thank you for the kind words from last words from last chapter- I promise, there will be explanations behind the angst and characters. There wasn't much pining in this chapter because at this point I needed to introduce the plot. 
> 
> Leave me a comment! I love, love, love your comments, even if it doesn't seem like it!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who knew researching history could be so fun?/Really Heavy Angst and confessions (but not the fun kind by either Alex or John's standards).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how to tag triggers, but basically be careful after it switches to John's POV for the second time. I apologize if this is kind of incoherent, but I wrote it over the course of a couple days and never edit, so.

As a group, the teens rush at a full run into the Main Cabin (another place Alex hadn’t shown him on the tour, along with the theater. John honestly doesn’t know why they let _him_ give the tours). It’s a considerably large, single-room cabin with a fireplace in case of the rare cold days, and arm chairs and couches arranged in a semicircle around the hearth. It also has a stack of laptops with a note on top reading “LAPTOPS- USE ONLY FOR PLAY RESEARCH! :)”. 

Out of breath, Alex explains, “This is the only place with Internet access and computers, which is why the acceptance email says not to bring a cell phone- not only do you not need it, you couldn’t use it if you did. This place has a hotspot, though.” He then snatches one up, grabs John’s hand _(oh God, this again),_ and flings himself into an armchair, dragging John down with him. He falls down on top of Alex with a muffled yelp of surprise, squirming around a little. Alex laughs quietly and flips it open, craning his neck to see around John’s shoulder. He can feel Lafayette rolling their eyes at them from across the room as they pick up their own laptop and beckon Mulligan over to share with them. The Schuylers grab a computer to share, then flop down on the sofa. A strange silence falls over the room, punctured only by the staccato noise of fingers hitting the keyboard. 

Laurens is far more occupied with being curled around Alex, practically sitting on his goddamned _lap,_ to worry about research. He's still not sure if he's okay with this, but he also has no desire to move. Ever.

“Hey,” Alex whispers, flicking him on the side of the head. “Earth to Laurens, are you in there?” John huffs in annoyance and rests his arm on the top Alex’s head, peering down at the screen, which was on the homepage of wikipedia. “I despise that,” Hamilton complains, shaking his head so his arm falls away loosely, but there’s a tinge of laughter and even affection in his voice. John snorts and dares to rest his head on Alex’s shoulder, praying that he’s not blushing, especially when he feels the sharp intake of breath from the smaller man. Alexander is keeping his eyes fixed on the laptop, and is typing in the name of the lead- “Lin-Manuel Miranda”. A huge webpage popped up, and he could literally _see_ his friend’s eyes light up. Watching Alex scroll through the synopsis, John can see him growing more and more excited. John is too, just a little bit. Even in the bad, olden-days portrait, he can see the intelligence in Miranda’s sharp eyes. Much like Alex’s, if he’s being honest, but that would just be weird. 

After several minutes of watching his friend read through the lengthy biography on Wikipedia, he nudges him crossly. “Can we move on?” John complains, only half-teasing. Alex rolls his eyes and nudges against him (which, all things considered, is a difficult thing to do if you take into account how closely they’re seated). A part of him wants to run away (he’s never been good with contact, especially not after having another… interaction… with Lee) and the other part wants to wrap his arms around Alex and never let go. So, Laurens settles with sitting frozen like a startled rabbit.

“Fiiiiiiine,” Alex groans, head drooping against John’s chest. He knows this looks like the opposite of anything platonic, but he can’t seem to care beyond hoping that Alexander can’t hear how desperately his heart is hammering against ribcage. But he goes on. Forces himself to watch impassively as he looks up Renee, Phillipa, and Jasmine- better known as the Stillman sisters. _It’s almost eerie, how much these people remind of us of, well… us,_ John thinks offhandedly. _Well, better to play what you feel connected to, I suppose._ They continue on through the list, Laurens watching with mild interest until they reach a minor character named “Anthony Ramos”. He glances off at the table of contents, quickly losing interest in looking at _yet another dead white guy,_ regardless of how apparently fascinating said dead white guy may or may not be. 

Then he catches a glimpse of “Sexuality and Relationship with Lin-Manuel Miranda”. 

“Wait!” he exclaims, louder than intended. Lafayette, Mulligan, and the Schuylers jerk out of their reveries and scowl over at him. “Guys, check out the table of contents of Anthony Ramos.” A couple seconds of silence, then a muffled gasp from Eliza. 

Alex tilts his head, a smile spreading across his face. “This… could be interesting. Imagine- a gay founding father.” 

xxx 

Alexander could practically sense his friends getting increasingly bored by their research, but suddenly there’s a tingling sense of excitement in the air. Before he can even think, John is reaching around him, shoving his hand away and clicking the link enthusiastically. He could tell that Laurens hadn’t been especially interested before, but now he could hear his breathing speeding up. Alex grumbled and made himself more comfortable against John, and feels a little tinge of smug pleasure when he feels him pause for a second, drawing in a breath, before reading aloud, quietly, into his ear. The overall effect- Laurens’s body against his, his smooth voice in his ear, makes him freeze. Muffled snickers sound from across the room, and in that moment, he actually couldn’t care less.

“‘Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my Dear Ramos, it might be in my power, by actions rather than words, to convince you that…” John’s voice trails off, and, confused, Alex glances back at the page. 'That I love you', it says.

“Huh,” comments Lafayette; he doesn’t have to look at them to know that they’re smirking. Laurens flushes (and he would know, with their faces so close, side by side) and slams closed the laptop. 

“How about we listen to the soundtrack instead, free up the laptops for more people,” Laurens says sharply, hopping away from his position where he’s half-sitting on Alex, who tries not to miss him too much _(ridiculous, ridiculous, he’s literally five feet away)._ “C’mon, let’s go back to the cabin. Dinner’s soon, anyway.” Alex gets to his feet and follows, disappointed and a little hurt. 

xxx 

Dinner and everything afterwards happens in a blur, marked only with Alex’s lightning-charged smile and the blasting of the soundtrack at high volume, just absorbing the words. Bruises are forming on his arms, and no one questions them. He’s crawling into bed and closing his eyes (Mulligan and Laf had drifted off abruptly a couple minutes back) when Alex starts shaking his shoulder. John rolls over and opens his eyes again. Alexander’s face hovers over him, close enough that he can see every ripple in and shift of color in his irises, and every pore of his skin. For a moment, he can’t move and is nearly one hundred percent sure he’s blushing, then Alex pulls back. 

He whispers, “Hey. You owe me an explanation.” John’s heart sinks and he closes his eyes again. 

“Alexander, can this wait? Please?” A pleading note has crept into his voice, and Alex makes a quiet noise of frustration. 

“John, please.” 

In the few days he’s known Alex, he has never once been called John. It’s enough to make him sit up and swing his legs over the side. 

“I know.” 

He lets Alexander take his hand and lead him outside; he doesn’t mention the curfew and neither does Alex. They walk in tense silence until they reach the hill overlooking the lake. The ground is damp, but Hamilton sits down, so Laurens joins him. 

“What happened with Lee?” Alex’s voice is hesitant- scared, even. 

John takes a deep breath; his hands are shaking. “When I was twelve, I was relatively sure I was gay. I’d been family friends-” his lips curls- “with Lee for a while, not that we were very close, but we saw each other a lot. I didn’t know him very well, just enough to have a crush on him.” He can feel his hands curling into fists. “So I came out to him. Don’t know what I was thinking. South Carolina, you know. He freaked out. He was fourteen at the time, had formed his own opinions.” His voice is shuddering out and breaking. “After that, it wasn’t the same. My father always knew there was something wrong with me- I didn’t act like the other boys. I opposed his views, chafed under them, argued with him, got into fights a lot, both with him and others, wasn’t man enough.” Alex watches him silently- there’s not pity in his eyes, but empathy. “Maybe that’s why he turned a blind eye to…” He can’t finish the sentence. 

“What?” Alex breathes- he wants to know, but he’s terrified of the answers. 

“The bruises. He’d beat me up. I never understood it. I’d tell him my secrets, try to make him like me, and things would seem okay, but it just got worse. It wasn’t too bad when it started, it was like what my dad did. Verbal abuse, you know? I was used to it. But things got worse when I was fourteen. I don’t know what happened, but he was getting abused too, I think, though it's not at excuse. I got braver anyway.” Laurens barely notices the tears streaming down his face. “He started physically attacking me. My father didn't care- he’d pretend not to notice the bruises on my face, when Lee got sloppy and punched me there instead of the arms. Things got bad. I got bad.” 

He can't get any farther- sobs are choking his throat now, and he swallows and drops his head. _Don't cry, don't cry, he'll hurt you if he sees-_

Alex hesitantly moves closer. “John, I-” 

Laurens sobs softly and digs his nails into his arms, into the bruises and thin little scars from the plastic knife Lee used to carry around just in case, squeezing his eyes shut. He hears Alex hiss in a breath, but can't be bothered to care until Alex gently moves his hands away. 

“Don't hurt yourself,” he murmurs, and slowly puts an arm, then two, around John. He still can't force himself to feel anything, but lets himself succumb to the warmth of his friend. Focuses on the sound of Alex’s heart and the feeling of his chest rising and falling against his own. “You'll be alright.” 

They stay like that for a long, long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew. I needed to get that bit done so we could get to the fun stuff. 
> 
> At any rate, comments are (VERY VERY VERY) much appreciated- I love hearing what you think!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing to say except enjoy!

The world falls away, for Alexander. 

_Well, no. That would be the wrong way to put it,_ he reflects. _It’s more like the rest of it stops mattering._ Because right now, the only valid thing in his life is John Laurens, who trusts him enough to pour out his heart. It’s John’s first time telling anyone this- he doesn’t have to say it; Alex knows from experience that the first time you talk about what happened, whatever that may be, you cry, or at least get choked up. Something breaks, something comes free. After that, it’s not great, but it could be a lot worse. Hamilton’s gotten used to delivering his tragic backstory or whatever in a casual non sequitur, or as casually as he can, at least. But at the moment, Laurens is crying in his arms, and the only important matter is making sure he’s okay. 

So Alex rubs John’s back, and murmurs comforting things in his ears, because this boy has endured more than enough hardship. He can see, in the dim light, the bruises beginning to darken onto the skin of John’s arms, and knows they are not the first to be landed by Charles Lee. A sickening feeling churns in his stomach. 

After a long time (though time doesn’t seem real, not really, not now), John pulls away. “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t’ve-” he sniffles, head dropping, and Alex’s heart twists. 

“No, no, it’s okay, don’t be sorry,” Alex whispers, grabbing his hand and interlacing their fingers. Another thing- give them something to focus on. “We’re- we’re friends. It’s okay. You don’t have to be strong all the time.” John shakes his head and doesn’t bother to reply. 

“We should go back to the cabin,” Laurens says as firmly as he can manage, and Alex nods, gets to his feet, pulls John up. 

“Alright.” 

xxx 

Inside, John is still shaking. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever stop, really. But for now, he walks back to Cabin Five with Alex by his side, feet scuffing in the damp grass. A little apprehensively, he shoves open the door to the little house. There’s no stirring, no clattering. He looks over at Lafayette and Mulligan, ensures they’re not pretending to sleep, then crawls into bed, more exhausted than he’s been his whole life. 

“Goodnight, Alexander,” he mumbles, and drifts off. 

For the first time in ages, his dreams aren’t shot through with blurred pangs of fear and pain. They’re subdued, and quiet, and filled with endless quiet nights on hillsides, and tears do not stain Laurens’s cheeks. 

He’s awakened without a bang this morning, instead pulled from a comfortable sleep by light hitting his eyes. Shifting around, he pulls the blankets over his head, and tries to fall back into sleep. 

Then, because it’s impossible to have a cliched, peaceful moment in his life, someone starts blasting music. 

“Alright, Five, rise and shine!” Lafayette whisper-shouts as the opening beats to “The Story of Tonight (Reprise)” plays. Everyone in the cabin groans.

“-there’s hope for our ass after all,” Laurens mumbles from under the covers, finishing the only lyrics he actually vaguely remembers from the song. “At least if Laf refrains from waking us up at some ungodly hour with hip-hop and/or rap musicals about the founding fathers.” He can hear Alex chuckle softly from somewhere above him. 

Hercules pulls his pillow over his head. “I’d raise a glass to that.” 

Laf collectively frowns at all of them. “This is fine art, and you should welcome the opportunity to listen to it. Especially seeing as none of you actually listened in the first place last night.” Mulligan grumbles in defeat and leaps off of the top bunk again. Alex snickers and bounds down to the floor. 

“C’mon, John, let’s go!” Alexander’s voice is cheerful, and it doesn’t seem forced. That’s good. “Let’s sing and dance in the worship of our true, pure lord and savior Lin-Manuel Miranda.” 

John huffs in annoyance and props himself up, freeing his head from the blankets. “Alexander, Lin was probably the least pure person in this musical.” Alex rolls his eyes and tugs him out of his bed with a little grunt of exertion. And, no, of course Laurens didn’t fall against him on purpose just to be closer to him, _because that would be absurd, and his feelings are absolutely platonic. Yes. Of course._ Alex laughs quietly in his ear and steadies them both, and maybe this wasn’t such a great idea, being so close to him, because now John’s heart is speeding up and he might actually die in the arms of Alexander Hamilton. 

Luckily for him (or maybe very unluckily), his French friend shoves in between them. “Wait. Laurens, are those bruises?” John stumbles backward, putting a hand on the frame of the bed to keep himself upright. Worry glints in Lafayette’s eyes. 

“Er… yes,” John mumbles, futilely trying to cover up the large marks peppered up and down his arms. Mulligan looms over all of them, looking concerned and a little angry. 

“Who did this to you?” Lafayette mumbles, half to themselves, tracing their finger along them. 

Alexander shoots them am angry look and pushes them away. “Give him some space,” he practically snarls, face set. John’s heart jolts, seeing that wildfire fury on his behalf again- he can see the protectiveness on his face, and it scares him and also makes him feel like hugging Alex till the world ends. Laf glares at Hamilton, but says nothing. 

John isn’t in the mood to fight, anyway. “Charles Lee,” he sighs, turning away and pulling on a sweatshirt. He turns his head. “Better?” Alex watches him sadly. Music is still playing in the background. 

“Sorry.” John can, at least, hear sincerity in their voice, not that it helps anything.

“Can we just go back to badly singing along to Miranda?” Laurens asks, a little sheepish and wishing he wasn’t, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

Lafayette gives him an even look, like they’re gauging his feelings, then shrugs and bursts as loudly as humanly possible into song. “IT’S THE TEN DUEL COMMANDMENTS!!!” 

John is just as surprised as anyone else when he laughs, really, truly laughs, for what feels like the first time in ages. He’s had a lot of these moments lately. Alex grins over at him, eyes lighting up, and John can’t help but smile back.

He hasn’t felt nearly this happy in ages, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At least things are looking up for John, right? 
> 
> *continues to aggressively wing this story*
> 
> At any rate, I know I say this a lot, but comment if this made you happy or sad or whatever! I really do love any feedback, advice, or affection you guys want to give me!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maria drops by for a visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that update came fast. 
> 
> All I can say is I hope you like the piningfest!

Alexander can’t stop looking at John- he’s happier than Alex has ever seen him (which may not mean much considering he’s only known him for a couple days). Deep inside, he hopes it’s because he’s finally let his feelings out. He’s a lot more beautiful when he’s this happy- though he didn’t think it was possible, at first. Only half-listening to the musical _(Damn, at some point I should probably legitimately listen to this while undistracted by a certain John Laurens,_ he thinks ruefully), he focuses in on Lafayette bouncing around elatedly, and Hercules getting increasingly excited by the musical he was so teasing of Laf for liking, and Laurens singing along quietly. He’s vaguely aware of a thumping bass and the humming, smooth tones of other instruments, but he’s completely enamored with watching Laurens and trying to figure out what he himself is feeling. 

Which is why he falls over when someone hammers on the door. _“HEY!”_ the knocker yells, with a distinctly female voice. Grumbling, Alex picks himself up to his feet, ignoring Lafayette’s snickers. 

He pulls the door open a crack with a grimace. “What?” he snaps, peering outside. A dark brown eye glares back at him. 

“It’s Maria, you idiot. Let me in.” 

Maria. It’s been forever since they last talked. He feels like maybe in some other world, they have this bad blood that they never really got over, but they’re also pretty good friends. She’s got nothing on the Schuylers, or Lafayette, or Mulligan, or certainly Laurens, but they’re closer than the people he hung out with at school. Maria Lewis is indescribable- you can’t fit her into any box or label, and maybe that’s why people can’t help but like her. Even so.

Alex groans and swings the door wide, bowing deeply as Maria walks inside. “Your Majesty,” he says, voice dripping with sarcasm. His heart flips over as he faintly hears John chuckle softly over the music (John is sitting on Laf’s bunk looking kind of lost now that there’s someone new here). Maria rolls her eyes and brushes past, but she’s smiling a little. 

“Hi. Mind if I sit down?” she asks, flopping down on John’s bed before anyone can speak. 

Laurens snorts and gestures towards his bed. “Oh, be my guest.” 

Maria perks up a little, eyes narrowing ever so slightly in concentration as she glances over at John. “Ooo, who’s this?” 

Alex shifts a little closer to him without thinking. “It’s John Laurens.” 

“I can introduce myself, Alexander,” John shoots back, and Alex reminds himself that the tiny smile on John’s face is a figment of imagination. He turns back to Maria. “Yeah, I’m John Laurens. Residential New Kid.” Maria grins, eyes flickering between Alex and John _(Shit, I’m already leaning towards him and I know that means that you like someone, and now I’m probably blushing, too. Goddamnit)._ She shoots him a look that very clearly says, _We’ll come back to this development later._ Alex sighs and drops onto Lafayette’s bunk, turning away from her. 

“So, Maria, what brings you to our humble abode?” Hercules asks, spreading his arms magnanimously. 

“Actually, I was trying to get to the Schuyler’s cabin, but…” 

“You know they’re Cabin Six, right?” Laurens interrupts, then clams up, looking embarrassed. 

“Well, yeah, but I heard obnoxious music playing at 7:30 in the morning, and you know that’s exactly what Peggy would do to wake up their sisters,” Maria says, waving her hand and shrugging. 

Alex rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wooden frame of the bunk bed. “Why _were_ you going to the Schuyler abode at 7:30 AM, exactly?” Maria flushes, and excitement stirs in the pit of Alex’s stomach. She opens her mouth to snap at him, but he cuts her off. “Ohh, I know what this is.” Lafayette catches on quickly and winks at her, and Laurens laughs quietly next to Alex’s ear (no, no, that’s not a chill running down his spine _of course that’s not a chill running down his spine)_ while Mulligan just watches her, a smile spreading across his face. 

“Oh, my God. It had to be this cabin,” Maria gets out, looking wildly around the circle of people, and Alex jumps to his feet, giving a shout of triumph. 

“HA! Who is it?” 

Maria groans and falls backward, dropping an arm over her face. “Can we not?” 

“Nope, can’t drop it now!” John says brightly, moving away from Alex’s side. 

“I was just starting to think you’d be decent,” Maria complains. “Goddamnit, guys.” 

“Just tell us,” Lafayette whines, exasperated. 

“What is this, third grade?” Mulligan asks, smirking at Laf. 

Alex chimes in, “It is now,” grinning at Maria. 

“It’s Eliza,” she mutters, almost inaudible. Alex jumps up again, pumping his fist in elation, Lafayette high-fives Mulligan, and John just smiles _(that smile that can light up a room, that one that makes Alex feel like he’s flying,_ that smile) and leans away from Maria, satisfied. 

“Knew it!” Laf exclaims, turning up the music again. 

Maria has to shout to be heard over the music. “If that’s all, I’m gonna leave now.” She’s out the door before anyone can say a word, leaving behind 4 snickering teens to their own devices. 

“That’s the one ‘Liza’s been pining over for the last year, right?” John shoulders his way over to Alex, leaning closer than is probably strictly necessary. 

Hamilton forces himself not to let his eyes wander down to Laurens’s smiling lips as he answers. “Yeah, that’s the one.” 

xxx 

Laurens is, to be honest, in actual heaven. 

After the end of the song-listening spree (in which he pretended not to notice Alex’s eyes following him, to a minor degree of success), they go to breakfast. It’s a completely different day from before- the sun is already baking the ground; it was rapidly becoming the kind of morning where you just want to stretch out in the warmth and not do anything. However- theatre. He’s happy, he loves theatre, but he also has no desire to engage in it at the moment.

It doesn’t hurt, however, that Alexander keeps on shooting him these glowing looks that make him feel like he’s going to explode or fly. Being around Alex is like a dance- he wants to be closer to him, but he just can’t, for some reason. It takes him about an hour to figure the hesitance, so uncharacteristic of himself, out. 

He’s so hesitant because Hamilton is pure energy.

Alexander is the wildfire raging and flickering, the flames that awe you and strike fear into you at the same time. Alexander is the hurricane, churning and ever-moving, dangerous. Alexander is the lightning, whip-fast and hot and bright, blinding. 

And what is a human to a force of nature? 

But Laurens can’t deny the attraction, no matter what. These people draw something out of him, things that were beaten and crushed to submission years ago between his father, Lee, and himself. Lafayette brings to light excitement and happiness, after years of depression. Mulligan, strength and protectiveness, after a lifetime of only looking out for himself, and doing a poor job of it at that. Angelica, ferocity. Eliza, kindness. Peggy, laughter. Alexander brings out everything else; Alexander brings out fire and love and anger and a need to fight for something, for anything. Alexander brings emotion. 

Whatever happiness John Laurens may have experienced before he came here has nothing on this place. It’s something no one can ever take away.

So he puts up with his friends, _friends, something he hasn't actually had in years,_ bickering playfully and throwing things at each other, and he puts up with exasperation and anger, and he can feel his old self disappearing and fading like yesterday’s storm as he falls deeper in love with his friends, with theatre, with this camp, and most of all, Alexander Hamilton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah, John, you've got it bad. Please. Get a grip. 
> 
> But no really, that was fun to write. If you value this fic in any way, please leave me a comment to look at! The feedback on the last chapter really warmed my heart.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast and rehearsal. Pining, too, but that's a given.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully you like it! Also, fingers crossed that me suddenly remembering that I stuck Maria/Eliza in the tags and throwing it in isn't noticable (and huh in retrospect that might not have been great for this fic's PR but I'm too lazy to delete it. Also not great for PR). At any rate: please revel in my all-over-the-place chapter that I probably should've read over but I'm in too much of a daze to so.

Alexander is, meanwhile, arguing with Eliza. “Eliza, you’ve gotta make a move. Seriously, you’ve been pining after her forever, and it was cute at first, but now it’s just kind of exasperating.” And, _yes, he knows how hypocritical he’s being, but at least it hasn't lasted, like, a year._

Eliza rolls her eyes, but her tone is hurried and frantic. “Alex, she doesn’t like me back, you know that.” Alex huffs loudly and stares her in the face. 

“Well, I’ll never tell if I do or don't,” he comments nonchalantly, casually sipping some of the coffee (unfairly good- camp food is supposed to be shitty) and leaning back against John, who he can feel tensing against him. Alex winces imperceptibly and pulls himself upright. Eliza’s eyes go wide. 

“Wait-” 

Alex shrugs and gets up to throw his coffee cup away, Eliza chasing after him. He’s aware of the other Schuylers watching them with amusement. 

“Alex, I swear to God, I love you but if you don’t tell me what’s going on right now-” 

He tosses his cup in the trash and turns around. Maria is standing right behind Eliza, and Alex grins widely. _Oh, this is perfect,_ he says to himself. 

“Why bother? You can ask _her.”_ Hamilton’s delivery is perfect- he watches smugly as confusion chased by realization followed by shock flash in quick succession across his friend’s face, then strolls back to his seat. 

“Mon Dieu, Hamilton, what happened there?” Lafayette’s face is bright with conniving glee, despite their disparaging tones. 

“I got impatient.” He can’t get rid of his smile, especially when he sees John’s face full of grudging admiration and amusement. Angelica is doubled over laughing, and Peggy isn’t much better as everyone at their table watches with some degree of satisfaction as they watch Maria drag Eliza out of the dining hall by the hand. Hercules only has time to give him a slightly disapproving look (as the dad friend of the group, it was his job) before he shoots back, “If I bring on the happy relationship between two of my friends, who are you to argue?” And at the moment, he swears that John catches his gaze and blushes. _Not that it matters to him, obviously._

When Eliza returns, she is flushed and hand in hand with Maria. Alex whoops and pumps his fist in the air when they sit down at the table together. 

_“HA.”_

“You still ain’t got no skills,” Maria mutters (Alex remembers the first time she said this to him- “You ain’t got no skills”- after, coincidentally, he failed to ask out Eliza back in sophomore year. He’s relatively sure that even then Maria had a crush on Eliza, but he isn’t about to mention that now), but she’s smiling and can’t seem to stop. 

xxx 

 

John can’t stop, either, except he’s longingly looking at Maria and Eliza. It’s really not his business, what went down outside, but hey, he’s curious, and who can blame him? That’s not it, though, and he knows it deep inside. The realization hits him as they walk as a group to the theater- Eliza and Maria still haven’t let go of each other yet- and it very nearly stops him in his tracks. 

_That’s something I want._

Laurens wants to be dating someone. He wants the light kisses on the cheek, the hand held tight in his, the closeness. Yes, he knew he wanted it before, but it’s hit him like a brick to the skull, leaving him a little off-balance. Alex glances over at him, concern clouding his expression, and he looks away, hiding his blush. 

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, but that just makes Alexander slow down to walk by his side. 

“Hey, if something’s wrong, you can tell me,” Alex says, voice low. His hand finds John’s absentmindedly, like it’s some sort of natural reaction, and he valiantly tries not to react, but can’t help the shiver that runs down his spine. 

“No, nothing’s wrong.” 

Alex glances over at him warily, then lets go of his hand and takes a step away. “So what part do you want to be?” His words are back at normal conversation level, but now, unlike this morning, the cheerfulness in his voice is forced. 

John flushes and turns his head away. “Don’t laugh,” he warns, and Alex’s face immediately breaks into a grin _(that’s_ a natural reaction). 

“I won’t, I won’t!” Hamilton promises, nudging Laurens’s shoulder lightly. John’s face is burning, and, inwardly, he curses himself. It’s becoming a habit of whenever he talks with Alexander (both the blushing and the inward cursing, and he’s relatively sure neither is all that healthy). 

“Ramos,” he finally says, and Alex’s eyes snap up to meet his (John may have been flustered if he’d noticed that, beforehand, they had been fixated on his lips). Alex bursts into elated laughter, a huge smile on his face, and though something about it makes his heart explode _(he just looks so goddamn bright,_ John thinks more than a little desperately), he shoves at the other boy indignantly. “You promised you wouldn’t laugh!” John whines, trying to banish his own smile. 

Alex catches his breath and quickly rearranges his face into the very picture of solemnity. “Of course, my dear Laurens.” John snickers and pushes him again, ducking his head down a bit in embarrassment. 

“What about you?” 

Alex gives a great flourish and sings, “LIN-MANUEL MIRANDA!” at the top of his lungs to the tune. Vaguely, John wonders how he memorized that melody so fast, then concludes that of course he’d be talented in memorization considering he’s brilliant at literally everything else. Then the embarrassment hits him back at full force because _oh, right, the probably gay founding father, of fucking course._ If he gets the part he wants, and Alex gets the part _he_ wants, then John is going to be in deep, deep shit. Though, in consideration of the last couple days, that would be absolutely nothing new.

xxx 

Alex is incredibly grateful that the awkward moment passed just as swiftly as it had happened. He’d watched in dread as the look of comprehension crossed over John’s face and he turned red (Blushy John is quickly becoming his new favorite thing) while he stood by, hoping to anyone that he didn’t get yelled at, though he wasn’t sure why.

In short, it was a stressful three seconds. 

They’re at the theater now, thank goodness. Shooting a look behind him, he smirks; Eliza and Maria are still holding hands like they’re glued together, and are whispering in each other’s ears. _Yes, I did that. So much for having no skills._ Alex doubts that he’ll ever get over that triumph. Speaking of things he can’t get over-

John is smiling at him again; he sees it from the corner of his eye and it makes him feel like he’s floating. This one’s new: it’s quiet, but glows with the intensity of the sun. There’s something about Laurens- it’s like a circuit inside him has been completed every time they share a look, or a touch, or a word.

As per usual, his thoughts lead him far away in a manner of seconds before he’s jolted out of his mind abruptly. “If I could have your attention!” Washington’s voice is loud and clear, like at one point he was a general, though the idea of Alex’s foster dad and camp director being a general is completely ridiculous, and he’s not sure where the notion came from. The director stares out at the crowd of senior campers imperiously before continuing. “I’m sure you all listened to the soundtrack.” The cabins surrounding Five collectively glare at Lafayette, who pretends not to notice, but there’s a smirk flickering on their lips. “At any rate, we’re going to get going fast. I’ve made an executive decision: it won’t take very long for you to get these parts down. Auditions are in two weeks. By that time, you will have tried out all the parts and you’ll know who you want to be. You’ll get the song you need to audition- it’ll be from the musical- and we’ll see what comes next. The first week of the two will be spent cycling through the musical as many times as we can. Sing to every part you can, please. Second week, you’ll be starting to sort out what you might want to be, and you’ll get tips. I’ll go into more detail later. But for now-” 

 

Washington presses play on his phone, and soon the music is blasting out of the speakers at top volume. Faintly, there’s the sound of kids scrambling for their lyrics, and then, slowly joining in, the soft noises of kids trying to sing. They’ve got beautiful voices, all of them, really, and not for the first time at all, Alexander is filled with affection for this camp and what it brings. Maybe outside this theater, they can’t hold a tune, but for now, they’re all perfect. 

And as much as he tries to ignore it, he keeps gravitating back to Laurens. Again. 

Usually, Alexander would call this a problem, but he loves it too much to really care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Points if you caught the really really obscure In the Heights reference) 
> 
> Please please please give me a comment! Your amazing words are my sustenance and true love.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Audition day. It's all a blur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for however I messed this up (I was [am] an incoherent wreck while writing this, so), but I think it's pretty good, and the plot's moving forward which I think is a good sign??? yes that's a good sign I hear
> 
> Anyway, read and enjoy!

John’s next two weeks at theatre camp are largely a blur, him only being able to pick out moments and the overall feeling. The main theme of the fortnight was stress, but the good kind, the fun kind. He’s been enjoying himself to the point where he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, full of dread, and actively spending time trying to ignore that feeling. The moments, though… 

Laurens’s dreams are plagued with them. 

Some good, some bad. 

Sometimes he gets the whispering touch of Alexander’s fingers brushing across his, or the fire and ferocity in his dark eyes. Sometimes he gets the furious stare of Charles Lee. Sometimes Washington’s booming voice. Sometimes it’s just what the theater is: the glare of stage lights coming on as the tech kids test out their gear. Hercules huddled in the back of the room, looking towards the front longingly as he sketches out costume ideas. Lafayette leaping around, their melodious voice ringing around the theater. Maria and Eliza’s fingers intertwined. The echoing sound of his footsteps on the stage. Flipping through the thick packet of lyrics that acts as a script, running his fingers across the page. 

It’s a blur, though, really. 

The next thing John knows, it’s audition day. 

“Auditions will last two days,” Washington had told them the day before. “The first day, we’re looking at the main parts. We’ll have it narrowed down by the second day to three at the most. Then we try out the more minor roles, look at the group dynamics, and cast accordingly.” The casting people are, if Alex’s word is to be trusted, Martha and George Washington, plus a harsher stranger named Louis who isn’t much older than them, anyway, and probably has no right judging them, but Washington seems to like him. 

Alex fidgets by his side as he and his friends sit in the dark theater. John won’t be auditioning today- he only really wants to be Anthony Ramos, and if he doesn’t get that, he supposes he’ll just be on the tech team and the ensemble. He’s already sworn to help Hercules with costumes, because he can’t do it himself. So, yes, he’ll be busy no matter how tomorrow goes, but it does matter. He’s still nervous, regardless. Alex keeps on shooting these glances at him, but they lack the usual fire- right now, they’re flickering like candles in the wind, and that’s fear. 

“You’ll be okay,” John murmurs, reaching for the other boy’s hand. “You’ll be great. There’s no way you’re not going to get this.” _You’re perfect, Alex,_ he doesn’t say. He wants to say. Alexander smiles at him anyway, grateful, and takes his hand. 

They sit that way, in peace, watching some girl try out for Miranda. They’re good, really good, enough that soon enough, Alex has the flickery-candle look in his eyes again. Laurens squeezes his hand loosely, then lets go. 

“Alex!” shouts Washington. “You’re up!” Everyone claps for the girl- she’s young, probably only barely a Senior- as she walks offstage, smiling shyly. 

John watches Alex take a deep breath. 

xxx 

The song is “Hurricane”. The first time he heard it, he nearly… he doesn’t know what. Cried. Ran. Laughed. He inhales deeply, to calm himself. It’s not working. The powerful opening chords ring through the theater, echoing in his ears in time with his thundering heartbeat. Alexander stares out over the crowd of kids. Slips into character. Sings. 

xxx 

Laurens hasn’t heard Alexander sing before. Alone. 

It’s like watching a spell being cast. It’s enchanting. Passion is in every note, and John reminds himself to breath as he watches. Alex sings every word with pure emotion, and John knows his eyes are riveted to the stage, but he’s never seen anything more beautiful. Alex truly looks like he’s glowing in the spotlight, like a god fallen to Earth. The song seems to defy time- it’s almost as if Laurens is suspended in the moment, and the resounding tones will never end. 

Until it does. 

The spell is broken, but the effects still linger; when Alexander grins at him a little nervously as he sits back down at John’s side, he feels as if he’s floating. 

“How’d I do?” Hamilton asks quietly, eyes a bit wide. 

The smile he gives in return is not at all fake. “Wonderful. Alexander, you were fantastic.” The sides of Alex’s lips curve up into a half smile. 

“You think so?” 

“Of course I do.” 

Alex finally smiles completely, and the next thing John knows, Alex has his arms wrapped tightly around him. “Thank you,” he mumbles into Laurens’s neck, and _hopefully Alex can’t feel the sudden heat of his skin, or his pulse beating out-of-control, or..._ But for now, regardless of what happens, John’s dying anyway, because the only thing he can truly focus on is the feeling of Alex in his arms, and his head under his chin, and the ridges of his spine under John’s fingers, _and and and and..._

xxx 

Alex has been hugging John too long, probably. He doesn’t care. 

He definitely has, but he doesn’t care about that either. 

All he knows is that he’s hugging John Laurens, who isn’t pulling away despite it all. 

Also, he fucking _killed the audition._

The rest of the day spins out of control into a blur of noise and color. If asked later, Alex would say with complete honesty that he doesn’t remember anything after he ended the audition. He may have eaten, but he's not sure. So, yeah, he hopes Eliza and Angelica did well with their auditions, but has no clue at all what exactly happened (Eliza was trying out for Philippa, who was a pure soul and 100% did not deserve Miranda’s shit [a lot like Eliza], and Angelica was going for Renee Elise, who was fiery and angry and ambitious [a lot like Angelica], and seriously, _what the hell is up with these relatable characters?)_. The Washingtons and Louis were only auditioning the people who perform as characters in both acts. So, if Laurens gets Ramos, he knows he’ll only actually be Ramos in the first act. In the second, he’ll just be an ensemble character, or whatever. 

(Alex doesn’t know if he could realistically deal with someone else being Ramos, but he tries to ignore that). 

It’s late at night (well, really, very early morning- it’s 3 AM) when time slows down again, and he finds himself fully in the moment. 

“Ah, the spaceman has returned to Earth,” Lafayette comments, raising their eyebrows coolly. Laurens cracks a smile, turning his head to look at Alex, and his heart flips over. If there’s one thing actually okay with zoning out from one’s own existence, it’s that that doesn’t happen. Cabin Five in its entirety is seated on the hard, uneven floor. He has no idea what they’re talking about. Concerning, considering his audition was just after breakfast, but he ignores that, too.

“You’ll be the spaceman when you wake up with like 4 hours of sleep and have to audition,” Alex shoots back without missing a beat. Lafayette shudders. 

“Don’t even say that. _I must be Daveed Diggs.”_

Alex stifles a snort; Lafayette has been obsessed with the man ever since they heard “Guns and Ships” for the first time- months ago, from what Alex has gathered. Laurens leans against Alex ever so slightly, smiling softly, and he prays that his breath didn’t hitch (it did).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, not much to say, throw me down a comment (or three) and drop some kudos on your way out! 
> 
> (P.S. I'm so proud of you In the Heights nerds who caught that last chapter. I love you all and I wish I had money to buy the whole soundtrack)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning of John Laurens's audition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woooo... Suspenseful chapter over here... with a side note of "John/Alex that's really gay most people don't feel like that about their friends" @ self
> 
> (Also today was weird??? my PE teacher was legit yelling "eXPOSED" at everyone and my little bro [he's like eleven] didn't know which organs were his reproductive ones??? so I'm compensating by updating my fic)
> 
> ENJOY THESE NERDS

Laurens slowly wakes up, drifting back into consciousness. He’s warm and sleepy, and he wants to stay here forever, but reluctantly, he opens his eyes; it’s audition day. 

John nearly yelps when he sees what’s in front of him. 

Granted, he’s most definitely, certainly 100% okay with it, but regardless, he bites his lip and tilts his head back a little, because the only thing he can see is Alex’s face. They’re curled up together on the ground with a thin sheet thrown over them, practically nose to nose on the hard wooden floor. John knows he should be moving away, but he’s immobile, transfixed on Alexander’s features. This situation is never any easier to get out of no matter what the variation of the details (John doubts he’ll ever forget when Alex fell asleep on him), but it would be so easy to just lean down, tip his head a bit to the side, and… 

He shakes himself out of his stupor and scoots back several inches, then slowly lifts the blanket off of him and gets to his feet. Hesitating, John turns back around, then, sighing, kneels and tucks Alex back in, pulling the blanket around the other boy’s shoulders. Alex sighs and makes a mumbling noise that John can only describe as cute, and curls up, wrapping the thin sheet around him tighter. Laurens finds himself pausing again, then forces himself to tear his eyes away, face going red. Soon enough (luckily for him), he finds a distraction; the clock reads 8:15, so auditions start in forty-five minutes. 

“Shit,” he mumbles aloud, snatching up clothes and darting into the closet. After a tense minutes he emerges again and scans the room a little desperately. Lafayette and Mulligan are fast asleep, curled around each other on their bunk; John tries to shove away the twisting feeling in his heart (longing for what they have between each other and wants it with someone he’s in very close proximity with, but he wouldn’t admit it, ever) and fails. “Wake up!” Laurens hisses at them, putting aside his self-pity. Lafayette groans and nestles themself closer to Hercules in either defiance or sleepiness. John rolls his eyes and instead take a few steps so he’s standing by the side of Alexander’s sleeping form. Again, he is struck by how small and soft he looks as he rests, and the twisting in his heart dissipates, if only for a moment. 

 

He prods Alex’s back with his toe. “Get up, Alexander,” he mutters. Alex makes a little mumbling noise and curls in on himself. Huffing in annoyance, John drops to his knees and places a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Time to wake up,” he murmurs, watching the smaller boy with an emotion he can't quite place himself. 

xxx 

Alex startles awake at a sudden pressure on his shoulder and flips over, instinctively throwing out a hand in defense. He only just manages to halt himself from saying “Get off!” when he sees John’s startled eyes over him. 

“Sorry, sorry!” he whispers, voice hushed. Laurens leans back on the balls of his feet and tips his head at him. 

“No, it’s alright.” 

He looks thoughtful, not angry, which is a positive. There’s a tenseness in his muscles, though, like he’s contemplating running away or maybe throwing a punch. 

Alex props himself up on his elbows, blinking at Laurens blearily. “What’s wrong?” John throws him a sharp look, face flushing a little _(Dammit, dammit, that’s cute, shit-)._

“Nothing, Alexander,” Laurens replies, and even though he looks like a bit of a wreck, and he’s blushing adorably- which Alex still can’t figure out- his voice is calm and clear. So, yes, he’s a brilliant actor if nothing else. Hamilton sighs and shakes his head, getting to his feet. 

“Whatever.” Out of the corner of his eye, he catches a glimpse of the time. “8:20? Holy-” He grabs some articles of clothing and dashes into the closet. Alex is quite sure John can hear him thumping around erratically in there and flushes slightly (why does he care? He’s really not sure, honestly). After about a minute, he bursts back out. “I’m out of the closet,” he whispers slyly to John, who snickers quietly and shoves him. 

xxx 

A couple minutes afterwards, they’re sprinting for the dining hall- none of them are really sure about why it takes them all so goddamn long to eat their breakfast, so they’d better get there early- after waking up Mulligan and Lafayette. John can hear Alexander behind him, running full-out just to keep pace with him. He smirks; he’s never once been grateful for his long legs, but for now they bring him petty joy, which is ridiculous. But then, John was never once allowed to experience any petty joy at all as a child. He’d had to be an adult since his mother died… 

Laurens shakes his head, clearing his mind of the dark thoughts. Instead, he opts to concentrate on the moment, on the golden morning sun striking his face warmly, on the feeling of his feet slapping against the dirt road, on the sound of his friends’ breathless chatter and laughter, on the feel of his own lips curving upward. 

 

Finally, Alex catches up to him, and he turns around and grins. “Ah, finally joined the party?” Alex huffs as he attempts to keep pace, running furiously. 

“I would’ve been here already. Wouldn’t’ve given up the chance to be with you in the first place.” 

John smiles wider, if possible, and inwardly his heart is racing like a jackrabbit. _Did he just…?_ Alex smirks a little over at him, staggering into the dining hall at last, just ahead of Laurens.

Breakfast passes, like the rest of the last two weeks, in a blur, snatches of sound and color. Anxiety is uncoiling in the pit of his stomach as he attempts not to overthink his audition, but massively fails; he’s not sure what he’ll do if he doesn’t get Ramos, if Alex doesn’t get Miranda. He catches Alex beaming at him reassuringly whenever their gazes meet, but that’s just who Alex is- the kind of person who tries and often succeeds to make your heart glow and make you forget your troubles. _Well, to me, at least,_ John considers, then tries not to blush yet again. After what feels like an actual eternity, Alexander is grasping his hand and leading him off to the theater at a run. 

“Come on!” he gasps out as they dash, the whole group of them, Angelica, Eliza, Peggy, Lafayette, Mulligan, and them, towards the theater, turning his head to the side slightly so they can all see his smile, eyes shining. “We’ve got a show to star in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't wait for the next chapter! 
> 
> I know I say it a lot but please leave me a comment! And as for all the concerns about double-casting... I know. I'm working on it (the writer's way of saying "I have no fucking clue but I'll come up with something plausible at the last second). Hopefully you really really liked this one! Look forward to the next guys... It'll be fun.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They'll tell the story of tonight, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [insert cool speech about the chapter, my efforts on it, and how much you theoretically really like it and what you should do about it here because I'm too lazy and unable to think to do it myself]

Alex would say he’s more nervous about John’s audition than John is, but that would probably be a lie considering the look on his face and the anxiety in every line of his body. 

He’s never wanted anything more than to comfort him, to hold him and tell him it’ll be okay, but he can’t, and he doesn’t know whether to be frustrated or devastated. So instead, Alex tries to satisfy himself by sending him a reassuring smile or two as they sit tensely in the dark figure, watching others audition for the more minor roles, but it’s not enough, it will never be enough. Once he glances over and sees him muttering to himself; it takes a couple minutes of watching John’s lips move (which, really, Alex has no objection to doing) before he recognizes the words to “The Story of Tonight”- the song John has to audition with, alongside some others trying out for the rest of the “revolutionary set” as they’ve been playfully dubbed. Before the auditions had begun, the Washingtons and Louis had announced that they’ve got all the roles decided except Miranda, meaning at some point, probably very soon, Hamilton will have to go back onstage as a part of the revolutionary set and prove himself. Alex finds himself reaching for John’s hand, though he’s not sure who he’s intending to comfort, and forces himself to let his hand drop back down to his side. 

“Alright- auditioning for the revolutionary set, we want John Laurens trying for Anthony Ramos, Alex Hamilton for Lin-Manuel Miranda,” Louis shouts, then pauses and sucks in a huge breath and yells, “Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette as Daveed Diggs, and Hercules Mulligan as Okieriete Onaodowan.” Alex jumps, startled- not just by the sudden declaration, but also by Mulligan auditioning for something- he hasn’t been onstage in the play since their first year, instead opting to sit in the back, designing, measuring, and creating costumes as a one-man battalion. He’s pulled from his thoughts by John grabbing his hand and tugging him out of his seat. 

“Let’s go,” he says softly, and Alex nods, letting himself be dragged onstage. Laf and Mulligan are already up there, obviously nervous but doing a good job of hiding it, at the very least. 

There are a couple moments of silence as they move into position- it isn’t preplanned, but they all do it anyway, quickly gathering into a wide arc open to the audience. 

Washington surveys the group, then points at them; they snap into character immediately (Alex, when looking back, is struck by how quick and obvious the change was, but thing is, that’s how they act when around each other anyway). “I may not live to see our glory,” Alexander sings, voice wavering a little with nervousness he quickly crushes down. His friends echo him, raising imagined glasses, holding them in the air. “But I will gladly join the fight.” They sing his words back at him, a singular, rumbling voice. “And when our children tell our story… They’ll tell the story of tonight.” Alex allows himself to smile a little as he lowers his imagined glass to his chest. 

“Let’s have another round tonight,” Hercules says, grinning as well as he slings his arm around Lafayette’s shoulder, who repeats the phrase. 

Alex sings, “Let’s have another round tonight,” then takes a small step back, angling himself towards Laurens to indicate the shift in attention. 

“Raise a glass to freedom.” John’s voice is… amazing. He’s completely spellbound, completely helpless _(Focus, Alexander. You are Miranda,_ he reminds himself firmly). “Something they can never take away- no matter what they tell you / Raise a glass to the four of us...” It’s beautiful; he could drown in that voice, could listen to Laurens sing forever, and never once grow tired of that voice. 

“Tomorrow there’ll be more of us…” Mulligan joins him in harmony, then Lafayette. “Telling the story of tonight…” 

“They’ll tell the story of tonight,” Alexander finishes the verse, voice soft but clear. He takes himself out of the moment, briefly, and tries to see this from the view of the audience- yes, it’s there. He can sense the camaraderie, what binds them together, and smiles. 

The song continues in due course, with them raising their glasses nearly in unison, and looking for all the world like new friends, bathed in the glow of a different sort of love, and the hope of a revolution. They end in harmony, and the rest of the kids cheer. Even Louis gives him a grudging sort of smile, and together they break character and walk off stage to applause. 

As soon as they get back to their seat, John turns abruptly and wraps his arms around him. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Alex’s heart leaps. 

“Anything,” he murmurs, nearly inaudible, and lets himself lean into the other boy. 

xxx 

John wonders if he misheard (he must have) but pushes the notion aside. He hopes, so much, that his audition went well- if he didn’t, his friends excelled, at least. Watching the other auditions on the edge of his seat, the only thought that is on his mind is _please, please, please let me have been better than them, please. Please._

The remainder of the day is spent in tense silence between everyone but Angelica and Eliza, who are ridiculously smug (they didn’t have to go onstage today- literally everyone except them and the kid trying for Chris Jackson did). Maria sits with them at dinner, today; she must be breaking Eliza’s hand from how hard she’s holding it as she stares off into space. Today, she tried for Maria, of all roles, the person who she shares her name with. Except for the surname, of course; in the play it’s Maria Reynolds, her being Maria Cephas. Alex had been shaking with laughter after he’d gone offstage following his audition with her (together they’d performed “Say No To This”, and John was determinedly not thinking about how at ease Alex seemed pretending to get as R-Rated as one could get in a teen play that could theoretically be done in schools with Maria). 

“That was absurd,” he had chuckled deliriously, and Eliza had elbowed him ("I can't believe you pretended to do that to my girlfriend, Alex!"). 

“Why’s everyone watching the wall?” John wonders aloud, after several frozen minutes of everyone at his table staring at the kitchen door. 

Alex turns quickly and mutters, “Any minute now they’re gonna post the cast listing,” before snapping his head back around to stare at the kitchen door again. John’s stomach twists, following his gaze. He’s as nervous as Alex- today, the prospective Mirandas had been narrowed down to five, including his friend, about the same number of prospective Ramoses. They had the same odds, same stakes. His hand finds Alexander’s under the table. Alex shoots him a grateful smile just as the kitchen door swings open and Washington marches out, a paper in his hands. 

“Cast listings for the Seniors,” he proclaims, then marches back into the kitchen. 

For a moment, there’s a stunned silence; then every Senior in the room is racing for the kitchen door as a crowd, shouting with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. John finds himself at the front of the group, dragging Alex along by the arm. He skids quickly to a stop in front of the door and gazes up, searching for the name “Anthony Ramos”, heart beating in his throat. 

“Anthony Ramos--- John Laurens,” he reads aloud, an elated laugh bubbling up inside him. “I got the part!” He punches the air, laughter rushing out of him. “I--” Laurens glances up at the top of the paper where Alex is staring, face blank and shocked. “Lin-Manuel Miranda--- Alex Hamilton! You’re Miranda!” 

The next thing he knows, it’s Alex sweeping him up in a hug, and they’re both laughing in ecstasy. “I’ve got the part,” Alexander whispers breathlessly, voice muffled in John’s shoulder. John grins and holds him closer. 

“We’ve got the part,” he corrects quietly (he doesn’t care how that sounds, he doesn’t, not in this moment, not now) and leans his head against Alex’s neck. Laurens feels like his heart is exploding and lighting up like the sun at the same time, as if he’d fall over from the pure joy of it all without Alexander to prop him up (the constant in the equation of his life). 

_They’ll tell the story of tonight, indeed,_ John thinks, and lets himself believe, if only for a moment, that the other boy feels as he does (and perhaps Alexander Hamilton also a variable in the same way that he is not).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This,,, just got 4x more gay
> 
> (throw down a comment or some kudos you know I love it)


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning of the first rehearsal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooooo, have fun with these gay dorks slowly delving into the world of "hey maybe our characters were actually in a secret relationship and oh hey we now have 'play the gay' as some would put it and memorize like a hundred thousand words holy shit"

It’s late at night. 

There’s silence across the cabins, even in Five, and it’s unnerving, to Alex, at least. He has his earbuds in, frantically mouthing the words to the “Miranda” songs he’s in (nearly every single one). John is seated next to him on his bunk, doing much the same- practicing his songs, which, though few, were still difficult, mainly because he was randomly interjected into quite a few of the Act One songs for a line or two. Marking up his script as to when he comes on. Lafayette doesn’t have a problem; they’ve known about “Miranda” for months and have had their heart set on being Daveed Diggs for all of said months. Mulligan was easy enough, too, and now both are sleeping on their respective bunks. But not Alex and John, no. They want to be as prepared as possible for tomorrow, when the grind truly begins. 

Alex sneaks a look at the clock, which read 2 AM. “Dammit,” he mumbles, pulling out his earbuds. “John, we’d better get to sleep.” Laurens startles and glances up at him. 

“What?” he whispers, taking out his own earbuds. Alex jerks his chin towards the clock. “Ah, damn,” John mutters, and yawns. “We’re gonna be screwed tomorrow.” 

“Sure, but at least we’ll know our lines, right?” Alex says with a tired, sarcastic grin. Sneaking admiration is what he’s feeling, though; not all that many people can deal with working as late as he does, and by the looks of it, John would’ve continued till dawn if given the chance.

“Oh, but of course. Simple pleasures.” John flings his script to the ground and leans back against the frame of the bed, yawning again and putting his hands behind his head, eyes half closed. Suddenly, Alexander finds himself doing that thing where he _can’t tear his eyes away from John freaking Laurens_ yet again. John tilts his head towards him. “You mind if I stay here for tonight? Don’t really feel like moving…” His voice trails off sleepily as he looks at Alex with hope in his eyes, who huffs in mock annoyance (although there will never be a situation when he says no to this sort of thing when Laurens is involved), then nods. The grin John flashes him in return makes any nonexistent regrets flee away, in any case. So Alex curls up, and John sort of lays awkwardly against the wooden frame, and their eyes close. 

Neither boy gets all that much sleep that night. 

xxx 

John watches Alexander through half-closed eyes. Granted, it’s a little creepy to watch another person as he rests, but since he has no chance with said person anyway, he takes whatever he can get. 

It’s just… he looks so goddamn _adorable_ when he sleeps. 

He’s curled in on himself, arms hugged to his chest, like he’s protecting himself from something. Alex loses much of his tension, his live-wire electricity when he sleeps, but some of it is still there; some of it never leaves. His black hair is down and loose when he sleeps, curling almost artfully over his shoulders (he could present himself as a model and no one would bat an eye), and after so many years, John would let himself be an artist again if only to draw Alexander. He tucks his knees up to his chest- he wishes he could have even the barest hope that Alex even barely felt a shred of the feelings Laurens had for him, but that was both ridiculous and futile. Alex- Alex the wildfire, the hurricane, the storm, the tsunami, the lightning. What would his mother say, had she been alive? _Paciencia y fe,_ John thinks a little bitterly. _Yeah, right. Faith the impossible will happen, patience that one day, maybe one day…_

Sighing, he glances over at the clock. 3:31 AM. The sun will rise in a little more than an hour, and if that happens while he’s awake, there’s absolutely no hope for him getting any sleep whatsoever. Laurens grimaces and closes his eyes. 

Luckily for him, when he opens them again, the clock read 7:46, and hey, 4 hours isn’t _that bad,_ right? Especially when compared to, like, finals week, or the time when he was actually unable to sleep for 9 days straight. John yawns and stretches, wincing as he turns his head; he’d slept in a terrible position last night (with Alexander to thank, of course; he wouldn’t have been lying down like that if he hadn’t been semi-creepily watching Alex). Leaning forward, he lightly places his hand on Alex’s right arm, now perfectly aware of the fact that that was the one Alex would try to hit him with. 

Sure enough, about a second later, Alexander jerks awake and lashes out reflexively; John catches his arm. “Shh,” he whispers softly, releasing his hold on the other boy’s forearm. “Just me. We should probably get ready.” He looks quickly at the other bed. “Yeah, Laf and Herc have already abandoned us.” 

Alex sits up slowly, rubbing at his eyes and yawning _(Okay, that’s adorable,_ John thinks before he can stop himself). “What time is it?” 

“7:50.” 

“Could be a hell of a lot worse,” Alex comments, sliding out of bed and down the stairs. John follows immediately after, flinching a little as his feet hit the ground.

xxx 

At about 8:00, they’re on their way to breakfast. Alex can hear John singing softly under his breath, catches the words of the reprise of “The Story Of Tonight”. 

“Raise a glass to freedom- something you will never see again!” Alex joins in, grinning proudly, and John smiles back. 

“That one’s gonna be fun; me and the guys drunkenly teasing you for getting hitched to Phillipa,” John says, smile turning into a smirk, to which Alex rolls his eyes. 

“Oh, please. You all are just jealous.” 

John snorts, but Alex can’t quite place the emotion in his eyes, just knows it’s not humor. “Wait, who got who? I wasn’t looking at the cast list.” John’s change of subject isn’t lost on Alex, but he goes with it anyway. 

“I dunno. Ange got Renee Elise, Eliza got Phillipa, Maria got Maria, ha, some dude named Aaron Burr got Leslie Odom, kid called Javier or whatever got Philip, George got King Jonathan III… Jefferson got Robert Oliford, that asshole, Madison got William Sanderson, blah, blah blah,” Alex rattles off. Honestly, he’s not sure how or why he remembers, but who’s he to question his brilliant mind (yeah, maybe Jefferson’s right and he’s got an ego problem, so what?).

John smiles at him, and then completely catches him off guard. 

“So, about the very likely gay founding fathers…” He’s looking away from Alex now, and is he blushing? Alex decides that he very much likes this developement. 

“Oh, yeah, how’re we gonna play that?” 

John shrugs at him, pointedly keeping his eyes away from him. 

Alex grins slyly. “Probably like highkey secret gay founding fathers, right?” He watches in satisfaction as John gets even redder (it brings out his freckles, and it shouldn’t be allowed for a human being to look that fucking cute to Alexander). 

Unfortunately for Alex, he doesn’t get an answer, because by then they’re at the dining hall and John is rushing off to get food and join their friends. 

Hamilton sighs and follows suit, shoving away any wishful thinking that might be coming to mind in this role. _It’s not real. It’s an act. He doesn’t care. Remember, Alex?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there aren't really understudies. For TJeffs and Mads, I just sort grabbed two random, common names and surnames from the 18th century. Turns out the understudy for Hamilton was Philip/Laurens Off-Broadway. Kudos to you if you caught the really blatant In the Heights reference- in this 'verse John's mom is dead, and she has Puerto Rican heritage, hence the Spanish. John isn't actually trilingual- he's fluent in English and Spanish, and knows some common French words/phrases, mostly due to Lafayette. Anyway. 
> 
> With any luck you appreciated this! Thanks for all the amazing comment left on the last chapter (like damn guys you're all great), and point of interest, all stats have now completely surpassed the FWRTM 'verse! Thank you all!! 
> 
> Again please please please give me a comment! Or three! I love to hear what you think!


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first rehearsal!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have many regrets today (see end notes) but hey you know enjoy anyway guys!!

A little later, John, Alex, and the others all burst into the theater just 30 seconds late. Unfortunately, those 30 seconds are enough to get them a disapproving look from Washington and snickers from the kids. Alex rolls his eyes at them and they turn away, shutting their mouths; John can’t help but send him a grateful glance- he hates when people stare at him. Grinning back at him, Alex takes a seat and pulls John down with him. 

“Alright, for those of us who weren’t here, this is the schedule: before lunch, you Seniors have the officiated rehearsal, where we’ll slowly inch through the songs, choreography, et cetera, et cetera. Then after lunch, it’s the Juniors’ turn, and you’ll work on whatever you need to work on in small groups or large group, depending on preference. So, for now, we’re going to work on the first song- “Lin-Manuel Miranda”. If I could have you all onstage.” 

After that, they’re thrown into a frenzy of rushing around and being placed by Washington; the calm in the storm is tall, dark boy standing center stage. When anyone is near him, their eyes are immediately drawn to his face- he seems to simply exude confidence and, for lack of a better word, coolness. He’s what a limousine would look like if it became human. Alex keeps on shooting the guy nervous, uneasy looks out of the corner of his eye, and honestly, it’s setting John on edge, so absentmindedly he brushes his fingers across the other boy’s shoulder to calm him.

“What’s wrong?” he hisses softly, letting his hand linger for perhaps longer than was necessary _(Now is not the time,_ John reprimands himself furiously). Alex jumps a little, eyes wide, then visibly relaxes. 

“Sorry,” Alexander mumbles, looking away. “I don’t know. He just…” 

Washington finally makes his way to them and waves Alex off to the shadowy backstage area. “Son, come on over here, you probably won’t enter till later.” Laurens watches him go, strangely disappointed and uneasy (he’s mouthing “Don’t call me son,” emphatically as he walks off) John, I want you back with the other dancers till you start your verse, okay?” The older man places his hand on John’s shoulder, who instinctively tenses up and shifts away. _No no no no no-_ “I’m sorry,” says Washington, dropping his hand and inclining his head as if he understood. “Anyway, over there, please.” 

John nods, a little shaken. He hasn’t done that for a long while, that weird reaction to an older man’s hand on his shoulder- a stern, strict, angry gesture, as far as his experience goes. To distract himself, he watches the dark boy who’s still front and center, stance wide and confident. Open to the audience, from what Laurens can remember. Washington bounds off the stage and surveys them critically before finally nodding with appreciation. 

“Alright, then, we’ll start now. We’ll go line by line, choreography and singing.” 

It takes them most of the three and a half hours they have to really get the whole thing choreographed smoothly enough. It’s certainly not perfect, not by a long shot, but it’s a start in that they at least know where to be at each time, even if the finer movements are still definitely being worked on. At long last, though, they’re let out for lunch, though John and Alex both want to spend their free hour in the research room, much to the exasperation of their friends. 

“Why would you want to spend your time there?” Angelica asks a little scornfully, though they can see the amusement on her face. Alex shrugs and grabs John’s arm, who jolts a little before laughing, and drags him away. 

_“Mon Dieu,_ they’re like a married couple,” Lafayette mumbles as they walk towards the dining hall (and John and Alex simultaneously and unanimously pretend not to notice). 

xxx 

Inwardly, Alexander is still bristling with anger from the comment when they reach the research room, irritation slightly decreased only when he saw how much John was blushing (call him terrible, blushy John is definitely one of the best things that’s happened to him in a long time- well, actually John in general is, but still). He flings the door open wide and grabs a laptop, then flops down onto one of the overstuffed armchairs, scooting over slightly to make room for Laurens. Glancing over the top of the computer, Alex looks at John quizzically, waiting for the other boy to join him, only to see him awkwardly dropping into the chair next to him, cheeks tinged pink. Hamilton can’t crush down the disappointment that rises over him, then feels guilty for it and just opens up Wikipedia. 

_Alright,_ he reflects, _time to check out this whole “gay founding fathers” conspiracy theory._

Much later, Alexander doesn’t know whether to be amused, awed, or scared. 

He’s certainly in awe of Ramos and Miranda for embarking on such a relationship years ahead of their time (obviously they did- he’s decided on that much), amused that there’s an entire subsection of people who now believe this mainly due to a musical (and the fact that that subsection now includes him), and also kind of terrified that they believe it so _strongly_ that there’s fanfiction about long-dead actual historical figures (although that’s pretty cool, too, considering he’s always been a bit of history buff- he’d never understood why people could act so disinterested in such a vibrant subject). And scared because he spent his entire lunch break looking that up, because now the bell signifying the time change is ringing. It’s not a school bell, of course; it’s one of those old Liberty Bell-like creations except it's not broken, obviously. 

“Well, shit,” John remarks, practically throwing his laptop onto the table and rushing out the door. Alex laughs and follows at a run, discarding his own computer. 

“Hey, man, it’s alright, we’ll be fine. They don’t really check on us. Our duty at the moment is to get stuff done with our basic show group- like for us it’d be the Revolutionary Set, though we can invite other people, like the dude playing Leslie Odom, because he’s a pretty damn important add-on,” Alex explains, gesturing a little wildly out of habit. Laurens turns his head, not breaking pace, to grin at him a little tentatively. 

“So, what’d you look at?” 

It’s Alexander’s turn to flush now. “Er… The gay founding fathers…” 

Luckily for him, he’s saved by Eliza rushing over to him. “There you are! Laf and Herc have been looking everywhere for you!” 

John smiles at her in acknowledgement (for a moment, he’s jealous of Eliza getting that smile from him, then feels guilty for that, too, especially considering they aren’t together and he has absolutely no right to feel this way, and it’ll never happen anyway, and-), then it’s him taking Alex by the hand, interlacing their fingers and racing off with him in tow, laughing at Alex’s startled-deer expression. 

And for some damn reason, Alexander can’t stop looking at him, with his carefree smile and the way his freckles look in the sun and how light dances in his hazel eyes--- 

Hamilton throws a look over his shoulder, finally and sees Eliza smirking at him, one eyebrow raised, and _Oh God I’ve made a mistake,_ he thinks a little despairingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spaghetti spaghetti I have so many regretti 
> 
> So if you're willing to listen to a long story, sit tight, otherwise scroll to the bottom paragraph and save yourself from this hell. 
> 
> Alright, so my Science teacher has taught us legit nothing all year right??? And naturally this is the year when we need to take the state test, the one that actually counts for our future. Anyway, the Science teacher has a health complication a month before the state test is issued, leaving a sub to try to fill us in on like a school year of learning in legit 4 weeks. Obviously that's fucking impossible. So eVERYONE WITH THAT TEACHER has probably failed their science exams right??? Yep it's pretty damn probable. We took the test Friday, and today the sub man walks into class and is like "alright kiddies you've been fucked over time to write a ltter to the principle and school district". And I'm over here like "hELL YEAH LET'S GO MOTHAFUCKAS" and in like five minutes writes this hella good essay thing that everyone in the class loves 
> 
> it's really aggressive 
> 
> I probably crossed like 15 lines 
> 
> I mean I went full-on Hamilton, like cut John Adams rap/Reynolds Pamphlet/Farmer Refuted Hamilton action up in here. I went off. 
> 
> And like for some reason my parents and ELA teacher love it and they're like "hell yes send it in to the goddamn school district" and I'm like "won't this ruin my academic record" and they just sorta
> 
> "eh" 
> 
> so yes many regretti
> 
> and that's why this chapter is lowkey subpar
> 
> because I used my writing genius in a pissed-off letter born of an adrenaline spike
> 
> ANYWAY PLEASE LEAVE A COMMENT I LOVE YOU ALL EVEN WHEN YOU DON'T CARE I ALSO LOVE MY GAY* NERDS THEY ARE BEAUTIFUL AND FABULOUS STAY TUNED FOR MORE GAY*
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> *yes I know Alex is bi


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet and informally rehearse with Aaron Burr (ft. Alex screwing up his own life again).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... take this. There's a shitload of pining, also a hint at the Burr-Hamilton rivalry. Enjoy my friends!!! 
> 
> (also tbh wow so many kind comments in response to last chapter??? I lOVE ALL OF YOU OMG THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT)

Lafayette grabs his arm and wrenches John away from Hamilton (both boys frown before rearranging their faces to an expression resembling neutrality quickly). “Come, come, you must meet who we’re rehearsing with!” they tell him excitedly as they tug him along. 

Alex catches up a few seconds later, a little out of breath. “Wait- who are we rehearsing with that’s new? I know everyone here except that kid playing Odom.” 

The French person throws him an exasperated but wryly amused look. “I’ll leave you to figure that one out yourself, Alex.” John glances behind him at Alex’s affronted and slightly embarrassed expression and can’t help but laugh, bringing up a hand to cover his mouth. Stopping in his tracks, Hamilton lays a hand across his chest; involuntarily, John stops as well. 

“And here I thought you were on my side!” he huffs, glaring at Laurens, though there’s laughter in his eyes, and a tiny smile he can’t fight back curling across his face. John grins back at him and shrugs, for the moment unable to speak _(What is it about this boy’s eyes?_ Laurens thinks a bit despairingly. _It’s not as if they’re anything special on the outside, just dark as night and gleaming with secrets and glow as if molten in the sunlight and--- dammit)._

“Suppose not, then?” Lafayette inquires, smirking at John discreetly, who shakes his head wordlessly and continues to head in the direction they’d been going before all three of them had paused. About thirty seconds later, he crests the hill overlooking the lake with Alex and Laf lagging behind him, having a conversation in French too fast for him to pick up. For all Laurens tries to listen, he can’t catch the words quickly enough to mentally translate them; he strains his ears and forces himself to think. 

xxx 

_“Ainsi, à propos de notre cher ami_ Laurens…” Lafayette prompts Alex, and of course they’ve been building up the conversation up to this, talking as quickly as they can in French about Maria and Eliza, which had been ridiculous considering it wasn't anything secret, but now they’re talking much faster than even that, wiggling their eyebrows only playfully. Alex glares at them, shoving the much taller person away. 

_“Tais-toi, Laf, vous savez qu'il connaît le français, connard!”_ Alexander hisses back furiously, making certain to talk quickly so Laurens won’t know what they’re saying.

They shrug him off nonchalantly, as if they hadn’t heard. _“Regardez, petit lion, il est assez évident que vous êtes entiché. Je ne l'ai jamais su que vous soyez si hésitants à prendre ce que vous voulez.”_

Alex opens to his mouth to respond angrily, but sees that John has frozen at the summit of the hill and races to catch up. “Hey, Laurens, what’s up?” Shaking his head at him, John purses his lips and turns away. 

“C’mon, let’s go. Mulligan and the other dude are waiting for us.” His voice is jarringly sharp, and, furrowing his brow, Alex wonders what he did wrong. 

Finally, Hamilton notices the boy playing Odom standing on the flat land on the shoreline of the lake. Mulligan stands a short distance from him, face oddly reserved and closed off. He doesn’t look agitated, necessarily, just a little uneasy. Laf bounds down the hill first, skidding to a stop next to Hercules with a huge, disarming grin on their face; even the Odom kid relaxes a little involuntarily. Alex and Laurens follow a little warily. 

“So… um… should we get started?” Alex asks, uncharacteristically quiet (inwardly he wonders where his brazenness went). 

“Yes, we should. I’m Aaron Burr. I suppose you would be the Revolutionary Set we’ve all heard so much about. Alex. Laurens. Lafayette. Mulligan. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” The kid’s voice is smooth and charismatic, but bitten off at the end, concise, as if every word is carefully thought out, and by that alone he’s so very different from Alexander. He goes through life in a river of words, tripping in them, drowning in them, rushing from him in a torrent, shifting others from his path if needed. Burr is like a snake- still almost liquid, but moving out of the paths of others, fluid and quick and calculated. 

“Alright, Burr, let’s get going, then.” John’s uneasy too, Alex can see it; there’s something a little off about Burr no one can put their finger on. 

They launch into “Leslie Odom, Sir” and “My Shot” quickly, and just like in the first song, Burr proves himself to be a phenomenal singer, and he slips in and out of his role perfectly. He jokes with them, talks with them, but there’s just something that doesn’t gel with the rest of the group, which Alex supposes is fitting, considering his role in the musical, but it’s still surreal. 

Finally he realizes it: no one really trusts Aaron Burr. 

If someone is going to be a part of the group, they can tell immediately. Burr seems to be analyzing them, looking for where he fits, and he’s not finding a slot he can slide into, though he’s trying to worm his way into another. He seems almost… removed from them. 

It’s not as though Alex dislikes him- he’s actually an extraordinarily pleasant man to be around- but there’s always going to be a part of him that watches this guy out of the corner of his eye, that disagrees with some on his opinions. Ultimately, when it comes down to it… 

_So, this is the guy that’s going to shoot me in a duel at the end of the show. Fine. I can do that._

xxx 

John glances to the side at Burr, at then to Alex. There’s an enmity there that he can see quite clearly, and honestly, he feels the same. Hamilton and Burr are similar, but there’s something off about the way Burr acts. And as for Alex, well, he’s not ready to think about Alex. 

He can still hear Lafayette’s voice, full of insinuation. Still can feel the silence as Alex doesn’t deny it.

_“Look, little lion, it’s quite obvious you’re infatuated. I’ve never known you to be so hesitant to take what you want.”_

Alexander Hamilton likes someone else. He has absolutely no chance with him at all. 

Sighing, he walks with the rest of his friends to dinner, pointedly not looking at Alex. Laurens feels a little guilty- surely the other boy doesn’t know what he did wrong- but for now, he can’t force himself to care. 

It hurts, though, not being able to meet the eyes of the person he cares most about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws angst at your faces* 
> 
> Also French translations (reminder: this is shitty, dodgy Google Translate not the words of a master by a long shot)
> 
> Ainsi, à propos de notre cher ami Laurens: So, about our dear friend Laurens... 
> 
> Tais-toi, Laf, vous savez qu'il connaît le français, connard: Shut up, Laf, you know he knows French, asshole.
> 
> Regardez, petit lion, il est assez évident que vous êtes entiché. Je ne l'ai jamais su que vous soyez si hésitants à prendre ce que vous voulez: Look, little lion, it is quite obvious that you are infatuated. I've never known you to be so hesitant to take what you want.
> 
> On the subject of my letter: unfortunately, my ELA teacher is telling me to rewrite it and see if I can get another take on it. I love her very much, but I kinda just wanted to throw the shitty, pissed off letter at the administrators as a personal "fuck you" from a student. Didn't tell her that, though.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander is confused, and he wishes he knew why his closest friend seems to hate him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aawwww.... these nerds
> 
> (also you nerds holy shit guys thank you so much you're all so amazing for caring so much about me and this story I know I say it a lot but I love you all even when I don't reply to your comments) 
> 
> (you all brighten my day so much)
> 
> (aLSO JEEZ 20 CHAPTERS??? W O W I'M TRASH)

What did I do wrong? 

The thought echoes repeatedly through Alexander’s head as the week progresses. John doesn’t meet his eyes anymore, and seems oddly removed from him, as if an invisible wall has been thrown up between him. If there is a wall, Alex is trying to break through it with everything he’s got, only to fall backward, hand aching from where he tried to punch past solid stone. And it’s not just that- sometimes he can feel Laurens’s eyes on him, harsh and angry, and sometimes even sad. Hamilton just wishes he knew why, but he can’t figure anything out if his best friend isn’t even _talking to him._ He curls his fists up next to his sides, watching the other boy desperately as their group takes a break from the free practice time, as he’s done far too many times this week. _Please. Just look at me._

Peggy slides up next to him- the rest of them are practicing singing the “A Winter’s Ball”/”Helpless”/”Satisfied” sequence and Alex is on a break of sorts; Washington said they’d be starting working on the song sequence the next day. “What’s up, Ham?” they ask, grinning, though there’s the slightest hint of worry in their eyes.

Alex huffs and shoves at them. “Don’t call me that, _Pegleg.”_ They scowl at him and push back. 

“Asshole. Tell me what’s wrong, at least.” 

 

Peggy’s always been upfront about their feelings, words, and thoughts, unlike most of their friend group. For the majority of his friends, though Alex prides himself on being able to read people, he can look at their faces and have no idea what they’re thinking, or what they’ll do next. It’s refreshing, having somebody who says exactly what’s on their mind as soon as it crosses their thoughts. 

“It’s John.” 

The youngest Schuyler winks at him. “Isn’t it always?” 

Alexander rolls his eyes. “If you’re gonna be a jerk about it, Pegs…” 

“Fine, Hammy. What’s wrong? Seriously.” 

That’s all Alex needs. “He won’t talk to me, Peggy,” he says despairingly, enough that if he wasn’t being serious they’d probably (absolutely) laugh. “He doesn’t even _look_ at me anymore, like he barely knows me! What did I do wrong?” 

“When did this start?” Their voice is almost offensively nonchalant; Alex frowns at them and crosses his arms defensively. 

“Just before our first free practice time, I dunno.” Pieces are clicking together in the boy’s mind, though he most certainly knows he doesn't like the picture said pieces were making. 

Peggy glances over at him, watching the gears turn in his head. “What was happening at that time?” 

“Talking to Laf about him… But we were talking fast, and he doesn’t know French, so.”

They sigh and rub at their temples, casting Alexander a patronizing look. “Correction: he knows little French. You know this, idiot. He probably overheard. What, though?” 

Alex leans back away from Peggy where they're seated on the crest of the hill. “Oh… shit.” 

“‘Oh, shit’ _what?”_ Peggy leans towards him, making up for the space he’d tried to put between them, eyes narrowed dangerously. 

“I just… I said something to Lafayette and he must have misinterpreted it… shit, shit, shit.” Alexander dropped his head onto his hands. 

Peggy tipped their head at him, grinning slyly, mainly because they know Alex can't see it, though they keep their voice even and encouraging. “Well, whatever it is, you’re gonna have to set the record straight. Goddamn, Hamilton. Go and get your man; I know you want to.” 

Burr’s voice, inexplicably, is echoing in his mind. _Wait. Wait. Wait._ But when has Alexander Hamilton ever waited, even once? When has he ever taken his time?

"Yo, Alex!" Mulligan shouts. "Go woo Phillipa! You still got a job to do!" 

Alex rolls his eyes. He has much better things to do with his romantic inclinations, none of which involve a long-dead woman, and everything to do with the beautiful boy that can't even seem to look him in the eye.

xxx 

John Laurens is uneasy. 

He’s felt Alex’s bewildered, worried eyes on him all week, asking him a question: _What happened?_ He knows it’s childish, he knows it’s stupid, he knows he’s only known the man for a grand total of approximately three weeks, and he sure as hell knows he isn’t dating him. 

So why does he feel so _betrayed?_

It’s not as if Laurens feels any ownership or some shit of Alexander; he knows that he’s a friend and that’s pretty much all he’ll ever be, no matter what happens. And it makes his heart hurt, icing Alex out for the last several days, trying to ignore his concerned glances slowly changing to desperation. He can’t even meet his gaze anymore. _But it’s the right thing to do, isn’t it? Distance yourself before he hurts you,_ John thinks despairingly as he tries to sleep in his bunk, eyes open and fixated on the mattress above his. He can hear Alex rolling around up there, like he’s trying to get comfortable and failing. Then, silence. 

The next thing he knows, wide, dark eyes are hovering over him. “John?” a voice asks, and his heart flips over. Alexander’s voice saying his first name… 

He sits up. “What?” It’s not like he can pretend to be asleep, much less try to ignore him; he’s directly getting spoken to alone at night. 

“Can we talk?” 

As John’s eyes adjust, he can see the anxiety on his friend’s face. “Sure.” He yawns and sits up, stretching, and glances over at the clock. Just past midnight, not too late. The cabins have been going to sleep and waking up earlier as the camp progresses (Eliza had told him that’s what it’s like every year, much to his amusement). He’s a little nervous, sure, but he’s also exhausted enough to not care. Alex gives a cocky half-smile, the one that John’s begun to associate him with, but it doesn’t seem to reach his eyes as he pulls John to his feet. His hand is rough with pen calluses, and fits perfectly in Laurens’s, which he definitely does not notice as Alex gently pulls him outside. John absentmindedly interlaces their fingers as he stares up at the star-speckled sky (he completely misses the ridiculous beam working its way onto Alexander’s face). 

Alex leads him somewhere he hasn’t been before- they stroll in silence out of the massive clearing that encompasses Camp Forge and into the deciduous forests surrounding it, which look almost silver in the moonlight. It’s an awing sight, especially for a city kid like Laurens, who grew up in a mansion in the middle of Charleston. Finally, he glances over at the smaller boy, who has an expression of almost childlike wonder on his face; both Alexander and John have their eyes on the world above rather than below. 

“What did you want to say?” Laurens asks quietly, squeezing Alex’s hand loosely before he even thinks about it. 

Alex glances over at him, tilting his chin up a bit and rocking forward onto the tips of his toes so that he’s gazing eye-to-eye with John, who smiles in spite of himself. “I just… I had something I wanted to say. I couldn’t do it around the others.” 

John tilts his head to the side subconsciously. “And what’s that?” 

Alex licks his lips nervously, and John tries not to fixate on that. “I… Laurens, you’re the closest friend I’ve ever had in my life, and I know it sounds completely absurd if the fact that I’ve known you for maybe all of three weeks is taken into consideration, but essentially, I really, really don’t want to fuck that up, so please forgive me for the miscommunication we had last week? I don’t want you to be angry. Please.” His eyes are pleading as he looks at John, who can feel his resolve weakening. But what Laurens can’t explain is why he feels so damned disappointed, like he was waiting for something that never happened. _That_ will _never happen,_ he thinks, somewhere in the darkest corner of his mind where true conscious thought doesn't quite reach, and something crumbles inside him, though he doesn’t recognize it yet. Instead, John smiles back at him. 

“Alexander…” The next thing he knows, he’s rushing to a hug, burying his head in Alex’s neck. “I wasn’t angry with you.” A lie, but he could never truly be angry with him, not really. “I…” Laurens’s heart hurts. 

“It’s okay,” both boys whisper simultaneously, then, silently, miserably, _I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *throws angst at your collective faces and leaves*
> 
> on one hand I'm a writer and I like drawing out pain and I'm nowhere near wanting this story to just be over... but on the other hand I'm a reader and really tired of this and want these fools to get their shit together 
> 
> but mostly I'm a writer lmao 
> 
> (I feel it's important to establish a timeline: 
> 
> June 13: Arrival at camp
> 
> June 27: Auditions
> 
> August 2-9: tech/production week
> 
> August 10: opening night
> 
> August 20: show ends
> 
> August 25: kids go home.
> 
> As it stands now, it is, like, July 5 [this fic is running w a y longer than expected I'm gonna need a rehearsal montage to take up like the entirety of July or this is gonna be problematically lengthy])


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And together, they fall asleep.

Outwardly, Alex is happy. Inwardly, he’s mostly that way too. 

Except for the damn regret, settling over him like a fog. 

He was going to do it. He was going to confess all his screwed-up feelings, hell, the feelings John made him feel, but then he looked into those hazel eyes, shining with hope and leftover starlight, and he just _couldn’t._

It scares the hell out of him, this hesitation, this fear of taking what he so desperately wants and maybe even needs. How simply the look in Laurens’s eyes made him back down. It just doesn’t happen, not to Alexander Hamilton. Until now, it seems. 

But outwardly, he’s fine. 

Okay, Alex is, admittedly, relatively happy with how the events played out. He knows he didn’t imagine the affection in Laurens’s face (he couldn’t conjure up something that beautiful anyway, if he’s being honest), or the smile after they’d hugged. Also, now they’re lying on their backs, talking about anything and everything, and looking at the stars. So there’s that. 

Their view is slightly obstructed by the boughs of oak branches, casting dark shadows and silhouettes against the Milky Way, and the ground is patterned with the shade of leaves. It’s cool outside, just enough for it to be acceptable to lean into John a little bit, so of course Alex does that _(But then, who wouldn’t?_ Alex reasons mentally), and he definitely sees a tiny grin on the other boy’s face (he knows, because even though he kind of regrets what he’d done earlier, that smile was enough to make him light up inside anyway). 

A silence falls over the pair, a comfortable silence, although Alexander can feel the secrets hovering thick in the air between them, even as John languidly stretches and rolls over, half asleep, so they’re curled against each other (Alex really wishes he didn’t feel like exploding when these things happened). The other boy’s eyes are closed, like he has every intention of actually falling asleep under the stars next to him. _It’s just so damn romantic,_ Alex thinks ruefully. _God, if only I’d just kissed him then and there. I should’ve._ He’d looked completely perfect in that moment- eye to eye with Alexander, hazel eyes shining in the pale light of the moon, flawless lips curled up into the tiniest of smiles, a galaxy of freckles spread across his face. 

As Alexander lies in the grass, moonlight casting a silver light onto the clearing and lighting the surroundings up with with a dim, pale, ethereal glow, he realizes why he didn’t take the leap, throw it all on the line, the way he always does. He hates it; it awakens a sick feeling in his stomach. 

He doesn’t deserve it. At all. 

Doesn’t deserve Laurens, or the happiness being with him would give him. Doesn’t deserve the love the other boy most certainly doesn’t feel for him. Doesn’t deserve to be so close to him, even now, close enough that he can feel John’s breath lightly on his hair and count every freckle on his cheeks. 

It doesn’t mean he doesn’t take advantage of it anyway, and that makes him almost feel worse. He looks so beautiful when he sleeps- sprawled out across the grass, though his hands curl close to his chest, head thrown back, curls splayed out like words on parchment. He loses some of the sunlight; it turns softer, less like the heat of noon and more like the lazy afternoon light. John Laurens is the most awe striking thing he’s ever seen, the moon’s light turning his already flawless features into something almost angel-like. _No, you’ll never deserve him._ Alexander can hear the song they’d been practicing earlier today, ringing in his ears, the last toast to the union. _And may you always… be satisfied._

He drifts off with the bitter melody echoing in his mind. 

xxx 

John wakes up with his arms wrapped around Alexander, whose face is nestled into his collarbone. He has his chin on top of the smaller boy’s head, and their arms are wrapped around each other. If Laurens didn’t know any better, he’d think he was flying. Granted, it’s more than a little mortifying, but for the moment, John refuses to let it affect him. Instead, he focuses on how it feels to hold Alex _(because it’ll never happen again,_ a nasty little voice reminds him snidely), and the way the sun is just barely beginning to peek over the far-off horizon, tinting the sky a pale color, and how comfortable and warm he is, even surrounded by dewey grass and hard ground. He lets his head fall back down to the ground, nestles himself closer to Alexander, and allows himself to fall back asleep, slowly drifting through bliss once more. 

He awakens again later, this time with Alex disentangled from him and awake. The other boy’s gaze is distant and blank; John can tell he’s retreated down into some far-off corner of his mind no one has any hope of finding. 

“Hey,” John whispers, scooting closer to him and touching his arm lightly; he startles and looks at him with wide eyes. “You okay?” 

Alexander smiles at him almost reflexively and leans towards him. “Yeah.” He casts his gaze over in the direction of the cabins. “It’s a good thing Laf and Herc sleep late, though, or we’d be in some deep shit, falling asleep out here.” 

“Oh, yeah, we’d never hear the end of it.” Laurens sighs and gets to his feet, stretching. “Shall we go back?” he inquires, adopting a terrible accent and melodramatically lofty voice. 

The other boy’s smile widens into a grin, the kind that crinkles the edges of his eyes and makes his entire face light up, the kind that completely destabilizes John and makes him want to see that expression every day- “Ah, yes, we shall,” Alex responds, imitating John’s voice and effectively cutting off his thoughts. Laurens laughs quietly and grabs the shorter kid’s hand, pulling him to his feet. Again, neither let go. 

It’s agony, really, for Laurens, holding hands with Alexander and sleeping next to him and talking with him and laughing with him and holding him, but never truly having him. He supposes it’s just his fate, to love someone so much unexplainably, so much words can’t even define it. 

But he shoves those thoughts aside, focuses in on the moment itself. Focuses in on the pale golden sunlight filtering in through the branches, the feeling of his shoes against the dirt, the sound of his and Alex’s steps falling against the earth in unison. 

Maybe, even if they don’t end up being together, he can be satisfied with Alexander being the closest friend he’s ever had, just as long as they stay at each other’s sides. 

_As if I could let this go,_ Laurens sighs to himself. It was a nice thought while it lasted, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This... was a lot more angsty than I expected. 
> 
> Hopefully you liked it (though you may hate me now if you're invested enough lmao)!! Please drop a comment!
> 
> (also on the news: this chapter was possibly as depressing as it is because I went to this hugely public event with a massive crowd and kind of panicked then felt sick for the rest of the day because I had forgotten to take my anxiety meds before going so I'm great :)))


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow.. lots of angst over here.. that'll change though because my terrifying cousins have left now (they visited over the weekend and it was awful) and I'm out of captivity. 
> 
> Enjoy!

A couple minutes after strolling through the golden-tinged forest, Alexander and John break out of the woods into the massive clearing that houses the camp. He glances to the side in faint alarm as Laurens flinches at the sudden bright light without the shade of the trees, then laughs softly at both himself and Laurens, pulling the other boy along with him as he himself squints against the pale, bright sun. They walk now along well-worn dirt paths, beaten down by years of teenagers racing along the trails. Finally, the two boys reach Cabin Five, steps slowing down unconsciously. Alex is, for a reason he can’t quite explain, strangely reluctant to enter his own cabin, like it’ll all be over as soon as he sets foot inside the building, like everything the last night was will be gone. John’s lips twist downward as he pushes the door open, as if he’s having the same thought as he drops Alex’s hand. The pair stare warily around the small cabin, but neither Lafayette nor Mulligan stir as they creep inside and climb into their respective beds- the clock only reads 5:30 AM. 

Alexander can’t focus on trying to sleep as he gazes blankly at the ceiling, eyes fixed dully on the rafters. _It’s okay. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t._ No need to sleep, anyway; the best rest he’s had in months was last night, curled against Laurens's side, so he has no desire nor physical requirement to sleep at this point. So instead, he watches as the light strengthens in the room, till finally Laf bounces out of bed so suddenly Alex jolts and nearly falls out of his own. 

“Laf,” he complains loudly, propping himself up on his elbows. Laf raises an inquisitive eyebrow at him and opens their mouth to say something.

Thankfully, Mulligan grumbles and opens his eyes. “Noisy assholes. Let a man sleep, huh?” He yawns obnoxiously and twists around, burying his head under his pillow. Lafayette snickers at their boyfriend and goes to get changed, attention already off of Alex. 

“Let’s go, guys. We’re doing the lovey-dovey sequence today, and I’m personally gonna need a hell of a lot of caffeine for that shit,” Lafayette says loudly, shooting a triumphant smirk at Mulligan as they walk into the closet with their clothes. Alex groans; he’d completely forgotten about that. He really, _really_ is not in the mood to pretend to be in love with Eliza (they both agree on that), then go through the whole Angelica thing (who literally could not stop laughing through the last couple verses of "Satisfied" when she had to talk about how much she longed for him while they practiced the day before), then maybe if they were lucky get to the drunken post-wedding party with the Revolutionary Set (which is the only redeeming part of the “lovey-dovey sequence” anyway). 

Sighing, Alexander slides out of bed, pretending to be groggy like he’d just woken up instead of staring at the ceiling for the last- he snatches a glance at the clock- two and a half hours. “Damn, I wish I’d brought alcohol.” 

John rolls over and squints at him. “Didn’t take you for a morning drinker, Ham.” 

They both try to ignore the surprised look from Mulligan, considering Laurens hasn’t acknowledged his existence in a week. 

“I wasn’t till now,” Alex huffs, crossing his arms.  
After several minutes of them stumbling tiredly around the cabin getting ready, they finally run to the dining hall, Alexander lagging behind as always due to his short legs. John keeps sending him these glowing looks that make Alex blush (and thank goodness the other boy glances away before he sees) as they dash over the well-traveled paths, and he tries to shove this events of the previous night from his mind _(They didn’t really happen, of course they didn’t happen,_ he repeats to himself furiously), but it doesn’t work. They all stagger into the dining hall just as the Schuylers enter behind them, and Alex futilely attempts to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach as Peggy glances between John and Alex before fixing a glare on the him. 

“I’m gonna borrow Hamilton here for a second,” Peggy practically growls at the group before grabbing Hamilton’s arm and dragging him outside, leaving behind several vaguely bemused faces. 

“Pegs-” 

“How’d you manage to fuck it up this time?” they demand, flinging their arms up in the air as soon as they’re a safe distance from the dining hall. 

Alex sighs loudly, rolling his eyes. “Peggy, come on, don’t do this-” 

“Answer the goddamn question, Ham. I thought you were gonna make out with him?” 

“That was the idea, yeah, but obviously that didn’t happen! And even if it did, he doesn’t even care about me, you know he doesn’t!” He’s rapidly getting more aggravated, pacing around and talking more with wild gestures than with words. 

Peggy groans, spreading their arms. “Oh for God’s sake, Hamilton.” 

“Don’t even deny it. You know he doesn’t love me like I do him---” he hisses furiously, then breaks off his sentence, eyes flying wide as he realizes what he’s said. 

The anger dies off of the younger teen’s face. “Shit. I thought- I don’t… Christ. Sorry.” 

Alexander sighs, sitting wearily down on the grass. “Well, there you go. Happy?” His voice is bitter and cold; Peggy stiffens. 

“I thought it was just one of your fucking _conquests again,_ Hamilton. I didn’t know that-” they gesture helplessly, like the word will materialize into thin air, before heaving a long sigh and sitting down beside him. “Tell me… tell me what happened.” 

He tells them, and by the end, there are tears in his eyes as he looks out over the lake, away from the person he's begun to regard like a sibling over the last couple years. He doesn’t wipe them away until he stands at the doors of the dining hall. You have to be strong, Alex says to himself, and pushes the doors open.

xxx 

John watches, a little worried, as Alex reenters the dining hall, face set. “Alexander, what happened?” he whispers softly as he takes a seat by his side. 

“Nothing. Nothing.” Yet at the same time, the normally animated, expressive face is still and blank, and the smaller boy leans against John as if for comfort, ducking his head down and resting it against his chest. Laurens’s heart melts against his will, and he instinctively pulls Alex closer. 

“It’ll be alright, don’t worry,” he murmurs against the other boy’s hair, and just for the moment he pretends that the entire dining hall isn’t watching, that they don’t see this. If they didn’t know about him before, they do now. They know John is in love with Alex. They know Alex doesn’t feel the same. Across the table, he meets the Schuylers’ gazes, who are watching him with infinitely sad eyes.

This hurts. 

Too much. 

The next couple weeks are an incoherent whirlwind of trying to figure out places and dances and notes and choreography, panicking as Opening Night moves closer, and trying to gel in with his new friends. You learn a lot about who people are in rehearsals, pouring out themselves through the lens of a person they aren’t. Lafayette wants to join the U.S. Army, a fact whispered to him just before the person themself leaps up onto a table and begins rapping at the speed of light. Mulligan wants to start his own fashion line, murmured to him during a free rehearsal time. Jefferson was born aristocratic, and doesn’t know how to get away from his roots, mentioned offhand following “What’d I Miss?”. Alexander dreams of becoming a published author, mumbled awkwardly by the boy only seconds previous to “Non-Stop”, just after “Tomorrow There’ll Be More Of Us”. Too much comes to light about John over this month, too- he’s asexual. His father may disown him. He doesn’t know what he wants to become. He used to be an artist, but his family took that from him in the form of taking away his sketchbooks and telling him to be a lawyer. He wants to go to Columbia, never wants to return to South Carolina. 

And Laurens watches people grow and change as he transforms himself, no anchor or past to cling to. Watches as Alex goes from a whirlwind to a hurricane in the days before tech weeks. Watches himself fall so much deeper in love with Alexander Hamilton. 

This hurts. 

Too much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahha there's that montage also the angst is real I'm sorry 
> 
> I was actually trying to write this slightly fluffier but then tHIS HAPPENED
> 
> (fun fact: even though in "Helpless" Alex talks about how Peggy 'confides in him' he was the one who wrote a shitload of letters about how much he loved Eliza to her so that's what happening here except replace "Eliza" with "Laurens")
> 
> EDIT- ONLY READ IF YOU CARE ABOUT THE ace!John THING: because of the whole randomly thrown in "John is ace bc I said so lmao" thing, I'm gonna explain: there will still be kissing, just no sex/smut/whatever. Asexuality is different for everyone, so don't make any assumptions off what you saw elsewhere or in this fic. Alex is aware of this in this universe (if you want me to include or reference that scene in the next chapter or whatever tell me below!). This whole headcanon is 50% my asexual ass being really uncomfortable with writing smut (I don't even like reading it haha) and also of course the line in "Aaron Burr, Sir" where John's saying "No more sex, pour me another brew, son, let's raise a couple more to the Revolution!" which I'm using as an excuse mostly, but still.
> 
> Anyway- please, please, please throw down a comment or two! They really mean a lot!


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning of the first tech rehearsal. The 2nd of August.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost feel sorry for you guys about what's coming next hahaha

It’s (finally, _finally)_ tech week, and Alexander doesn’t know whether to be extraordinarily happy and relieved about it or completely terrified because they only just got done choreographing the whole show two days ago. He thinks he’ll settle for the latter, and it seems pretty much everyone else has too. 

He’s mostly been staying with his own group of friends throughout the duration of the camp, but, okay, he’ll admit he’s been spending a lot more time with Laurens than anyone else. Not that being around John is easy, no matter how you spin it. Being with him, for Alex, is like holding your hands close to an open fire. For a while, it’s warm and comfortable, but then you want to get closer, and you try and you get burnt and you choke on the smoke billowing from it, and really, it’s just painful. So Alexander keeps a careful distance while wanting to do anything but. It kind of sucks. Especially because Peggy keeps on sending him these looks, and over the last week or so, the other Schuylers plus Laf and Herc have been picking up on it and mimicking them (and he’s still not sure whether the rest actually know he’s in love with John or if they can just sense that Peggy is bullying him with their goddamn eyeballs and hopping on the bandwagon, so there’s that). At least John hasn’t noticed yet; he’s not sure for all his thinking how he’d deal with that. 

Alex is lying curled up in bed, eyes fixed on the opposite wall. He’s running frantically through his songs- hasn’t been able to stop for days- and mumbling the words as fast as he can under his breath, imagining the choreography of every lyric, every facial expression he must make. The practice schedule is going to become far more grating, now- no more free rehearsal time. Starting today, Martha Washington will start instructing them in the dining hall after lunch, rather than having relatively unstructured time to practice, just running through the musical and the set cues. They’ll be trying to narrow it down to the time of the actual play- about two and a half hours of straight-up singing except for “Tomorrow There’ll Be More Of Us”. The song almost physically pains Alexander to perform, not because it’s hard to act that way, but because it’s so terrifyingly easy to imagine the impacts John would take on him if he left his life forever. He’s not playing Miranda in that scene, he’s playing a married version of himself who happens to be in love with a man. And he’s not even allowed to make eye contact with John while they’re playing through that scene. 

The faces he can currently see have wide-open eyes, too, and panicked, quick-moving mouths. Below him, Alex is sure Laurens is quite the same, though the rest of the cabin have far smaller parts than Alex does. After a couple more agonizing minutes of this silence, the alarm finally goes off (after several more close calls with lateness, Alex finally caved and set an alarm for 7:45 AM) and all four kids practically launch themselves out of bed, scrambling to get ready. No one wants to be late for the first rehearsal of tech week. 

He hops down next to Laurens, startling the taller boy, who yelps and shoves at him, laughing, eyes bright with amusement. Alexander grins back before grabbing his clothes and leaping into the closet before anyone else can (so he misses John’s blush, along with all the other glances and gestures and flushing that happened a moment too early, a second too late). The very second Alex is out, Laf pushes their way in as Alex quickly gives his hair a once-over with a brush and puts it up into a sloppy ponytail that leaves a couple strands of hair hanging free; he can’t bring himself to care about the messiness of it and shrugs helplessly, not that anyone can see him. 

Pretty soon, they’re all walking side by side to the dining hall (now that they’ve actually got an alarm, the mad dashes are over. Alex misses them, sometimes), joking around nervously. John is perpetually at his side, hazel eyes wider than they normally are as he strides towards the hall. Sending him a sympathetic smile- he knows how bad tech week can be, and how anxious it makes people- Alexander takes hold of his limp hand. The way they always do. Mulligan and Lafayette, to their credit, pretend not to notice as Alex lightly brushes his finger over John’s knuckles comfortingly. Laurens tenses slightly, then relaxes, leaning towards Alex slightly, who goes red, turning his face away (he pretends to ignore Laf winking at him with very little degree of success). 

xxx 

Alexander is holding his hand _again,_ and, dammit, John’s really not sure how many more times he can take this. Alex taking his hand whenever either of them are nervous. When either are happy. Or disheartened. Or tired. Or sad. Becoming the eye of the hurricane for each other, Laurens supposes. He doesn’t have a problem with it, except he’s pretty sure he shouldn’t feel like he’s going to implode whenever Hamilton holds his hand (honestly, he should be over with the feeling of Alex’s callused fingers against his, but he’s not, and it’s aggravating but at the same time not at all). Actually, despite his nervousness for tech week- it’s supposed to be grueling as all hell, and it’s apparently where relationships are either shattered or made 100x stronger- he’s pretty great. Honestly couldn’t be much happier (hasn’t been this happy since The Night, back in early July, but he doesn’t think about that. Really). 

Until, of course, Charles fucking Lee. 

The boy hasn’t even come _near_ John in ages except for during “Ten Duel Commandments” (only because he has to), not since the fight (where Alex saved his ass, but he doesn’t think about that either). Yet here he is planted right in their path. Laf and Herc have already disappeared into the dining hall, but Alex and John are frozen to the ground. Still. Silent. 

“Lee,” Alex states, voice cool and calm, completely unlike himself. 

“Hamilton,” Lee sneers in return. “I’d like to borrow your boyfriend here for a moment.” 

John hisses in a sharp breath, tensing up even more. “Lee, whatever you’ve got to say, please feel free to do so right here and now because I’m not stupid enough to go off on my own with you. I’m not his boyfriend, anyway.” Alex squeezes his hand tightly and shoots him a glance that seems fiery and calm all at once (his heart twisted on the last sentence, but Alexander cannot under any circumstance know that). 

Lee laughs tightly. “Oh, okay, that’s great. Just thought you ought to know, though...” Suddenly he’s practically nose to nose with Laurens, a predatory smile on his face. “Your. Father. Knows.” 

“What?” Alex growls, letting to go of John’s hand and trying to shove between Lee and him. “Get the hell away from him, Lee, or I swear to God--” 

“You’re going to _what,_ whoreson?” Lee inquires sharply, not even looking at him as he shoves him away without much force, but as a warning, eyes fixated on Laurens. “As I said. Your father knows about you and the bastard.” His voice lowers to a deadly whisper. “He knows you have some sort of… feelings for him. Abominations is the better word. He told me to pass on a message- you stop going near him. Or he disowns you. He can’t have you fucking up his reputation. The choice is yours, faggot.” John’s frozen. How could he know? How could he possibly know?

Lee pivots on his heel and begins to walks away, a self-satisfied smirk on his face as John stands still, unable to move. “Lee. Get back here.” John doesn’t even recognize the words came out of his mouth until Charles turns around. “Fight me. 3rd of August. 3 AM. Hill overlooking the lake near the cabins.” His lips twist into a corroded smile that doesn’t suit him. “Bring a second; mine’s Hamilton if he’s up for it. We’ll take our fists, and only our fists. I know enough about medical affairs, so I’ll be the doctor. Guess what, shitface, we’re going Mirandaian.” 

“Wait-” Alex gets out, but Lee nods, a wicked grin on his face, and retreats back towards his cabins. Hamilton whirls towards him. “John, please don’t do this-” 

“I can stand up for myself, Alexander,” he retorts, voice sharp and bristling with anger. He may know it’s misplaced, but for the moment, he doesn’t care. 

Instead of backing away, Alex takes a step forward and lays a hand on his shoulder, staring directly into his eyes. “I don’t doubt it. But please, John, you could be badly hurt.” His voice is soft and pleading, and his dark brown eyes are sparkling with unbidden tears. Even for a second, John wishes he could listen, as if his insides don't feel like a twisted brand of fire, scorching at him and burning him. As if he ever had any restraint. As if he doesn't give a damn about whether he gets hurt. 

_“I- Don’t- Care.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this hurt me to write but on the other hand I was maniacally grinning the whole time (don't hate me please) 
> 
> Sneak Peek because I'm an asshole: 
> 
> John: "Why do you care?" 
> 
> Alex: "Because-" 
> 
> (LEAVE ME A COMMENT GUYS; I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH, THANKS FOR ALL THE SUPPORT YOU GIVE!)


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You’re important. To everyone else, and so much more to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna draw this out for another day (I actually got it done last night ahahah) but then... nah. Without any further ado, though... The chapter.
> 
> [laughing nervously]

Alexander can’t help it; his eyes go wide and he moves even closer. “John, please don’t say that. I care what happens to you. Please. Don’t get hurt.” 

John recoils from his unsteady grasp, and there’s a mad, dangerous light in his eyes, the look of a man who is beyond reason and doubt. “Why do you even care about me, Alexander? _Why?”_

“Because-” he can’t make himself say it. He can’t. His voice isn’t working anymore. _If you did say that, it would be over anyway._

Laurens turns away, light in his eyes dying. “Yeah, exactly.” 

“No, please! Don’t go!” Alex whispers desperately, voice choked. “John…” His voice leaves him again, and his words are diving down a different path when he regains control of his vocal cords once more. “I care about you too much to let you do this. You matter. You’re important. To everyone else, and so much more to me.” There’s no stopping him, of course, not matter what Alex does. Like hell. He knows that expression on John’s face; he’s seen it all too often in the mirror. He’d also seen the way the blood drained out from his cheeks when Charles Lee had whispered to him. If only he’d just been close enough to hear. Maybe all of this would’ve been averted, if only he’d known what the man had said. More likely, Alexander would have fought Lee himself, but it was a nice thought. 

John snorts. “Right.” 

“Please.” It’s all he can say. Choked-out words, pleas. He feels so goddamn useless he wants to scream, but he can’t do that either, which makes it all the worse. So instead, Alexander grabs John’s free hand and intertwines their fingers. Stares straight into his furious eyes. “Please.” It comes out as a strangled breath. 

Something breaks at that moment in the eyes of John Laurens. “I can’t.” The next thing he knows, Laurens is crying into his shoulder. Early morning outside the dining hall, and a boy is in tears, and another boy is holding him. Alex doesn’t care. Be the friend you always needed, Alexander, he reminds himself, and rubs at John’s back. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, though the other boy probably can’t hear him. “I’m so sorry.” His words are back now. Too late. Too late. 

They go to rehearsal early, and without breakfast. 

Later, they are told that they both performed above and beyond any expectations, especially in “Tomorrow There’ll Be More Of Us”. 

Imagine that. 

xxx 

John sighs in resignation and slides out of bed after watching the clock for hours. “Alexander,” he whispers, and as expected, Alex immediately pops his head up over the railing of the bunk, probably not having slept for the last couple hours (though Laurens swore he’d wake him up. _Was he worried? Of course not,_ he answers himself). 

Alex nods, eyes wide with worry. “I’m with you.” The clock only reads 2:00 AM, but there’s nothing wrong with being early. The other boy drops gracefully to the ground, glancing surreptitiously towards the other bunk to make sure the other inhabitants of Cabin Five are asleep. Satisfied, Hamilton gives a tense smile of affirmation and slips outside, leaving the door open for John, who follows silently. Blinking against the dim light of the moon, the pair strides purposefully over the trails (wistfully, Laurens remembers when they dashed so lightly over these paths a July dawn long ago. It seems so far away now). At some point during the walk to hilltop, Alexander’s hand found his, and John can’t find it within himself to shake him off. There’s still something comforting about it, even though it probably ruined his life what with the issue regarding his father. Unbidden, he smiles at the shorter boy, who visibly relaxes and grins back a little hesitantly. With a pang of guilt, John recalls the argument of the morning and stops cold. 

“I’m sorry. For what I said earlier,” he states, voice seemingly too loud in the quiet night. 

“I know,” Alex mumbles back, his eyes flickering down to the ground. He obviously doesn’t believe him, and honestly, John doesn’t blame him for it. He wouldn’t believe himself either. He just wants to go back to the way it was. 

“I care about you, too.” _Love,_ his brain insists mournfully. Luckily, Laurens has gotten incredibly skilled at ignoring his mind over the years, and this is no different.

Silence. 

So instead of talking like they normally would, they stand on the crest of a hill for an hour. At long last, two figures appear, silver in the moonlight. One hulking, the other skinny and wiry, but both would obviously tower over both Hamilton and Laurens, that much is evident even at a difference. Alex’s back straightens and he stares imperiously at the two boys advancing on them. 

“Well?” John asks, and he doesn’t recognize his voice. 

Lee sneers and steps aside, waving a hand at his second. “Meet my buddy, Evan.” 

“Pleasure,” Alex states curtly. “Can we get on with this?” 

“As you would say- pleasure.” Lee cracks his knuckles, and John chuckles a little deliriously; Alexander shoots him a concerned look as he steps aside, face resigned. 

“1. 2. 3,” Alex starts, eyes fixed on Laurens. Evan picks up the hint and joins in, counting in perfect unison. “4. 5. 6.” Both Lee and John tense, leaning towards each other; their eyes are narrowed and deadly. “7. 8. 9.” John can hear Alexander hesitate painfully and count in late, “10.” 

In a heartbeat, they leap at each other, hands flying to each other’s shoulders, grappling to try and shove the other to the ground. Lee has the obvious weight and height advantage, but John’s strong and fast and tricky. At least, that’s what he’d like to think, if nothing else. The other boy lands the first blow, a heavy hit to Laurens’s leg that sends him stumbling backward. He tries to regain his balance, but before he can plant his feet, Lee’s darting forward and throws a solid punch to his jaw. John goes down hard (vaguely, he hears Alex’s muffled gasp, sees out of his peripheral vision the other boy forcing himself to stay still) but at least manages to roll back to his feet so he stands face to face with Charles again. He allows himself a grim smile. 

“That all you got?” he taunts, kicking hard at the other kid’s kneecap. Lee goes down like a rock. Spitefully, John slams his foot into the boy’s ribs, eliciting a muted yelp of pain. 

“John, that’s enough, you took him down-” 

He doesn’t care. 

Lee’s back on his feet now, probably aching but still ready to fight. “As if, bastard,” John’s opponent hisses to Alex, still catching Laurens in the stomach and effectively knocking the air out of him. He gasps for breath, sprawled out on his back on the ground. Lee stands over him, a self-satisfiied smirk on his face. “Knew it’d be an easy takedown.” 

_Like hell,_ John thinks, and shoots to his feet, ignoring the blackness encroaching on his vision as he tackles Lee straight to the ground. He lands blow after blow on the other boy, and the whole time Charles is spewing insults. Laurens only notices after a while. 

_“He’ll-”_ punch- “never-” punch- “love you. Not like you do. I know it, I’ve seen him-” Punch hard to the diaphragm. Gasp of pain. “You’re just-” punch- “fucking-” punch- “useless.” And then Lee is dealing him a solid punch to the face, and another, and another, and the world is shattering beneath his skin, and-

The next thing he know, strong, warm hands are wrapped around him. “For God’s sake, John, you’ve got to _stop!”_

Laurens freezes, goes limp. _Alexander._ Tears are running down his own face, and they’re mixing with his blood in rivulets, and he hadn't noticed till now, even. Lee is staring at him, eyes emotionless and blank. 

“Are you done?” Alex spits at the massive boy, eyes seeming to burn. 

Lee grins triumphantly, tiredly. “I win.” 

“No,” John croaks out, exhausted. “No one did.” And really, who could see this as a victory? Laurens has been in love with war, idolized it. He’s enjoyed every fight he’s gotten into, in some dark place in his heart, but not this one. This one was… twisted. Not honorable. Guided by nothing other than rage, and anger was an okay motive so long as it had something to go along with it. But, no, not this skirmish. It will not be his last battle- these fights, they never end. But. Blood and tears soak both of their faces, bruises will flourish on both of their faces and arms. No wounds to the eyes or mouths, though; that’s lucky, he supposes, for the play, because while bruises can be covered, shiners cannot, and nor can fat lips. He laughs shakily with something that could be relief, lets his head tip back and eyes close. Lee is watching him again, and his face as stilled, mouth twisting downwards. The barest trace of humanity enters his eyes, if one was looking closely. 

“Let’s never do this again.” 

The two boys slip off into the night, leaving Alex and John alone on a hilltop, alone with secrets and fear. “I was so worried. I...” Alexander whispers, then trails off, pulling Laurens close. He lets out a sigh and allows himself to wrap his arms around the other boy, dropping any pretense of distance, just for the moment. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs once more, hiding his face in Alex’s shirt, and he means it. 

He’s so tired.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hahahaha when you started reading this yall thought you were signing on to some pining and fluff and gayness and then
> 
> NOPE
> 
> In all seriousness, though, sorry for misleading you with the sneak peek (though I'm pretty sure most of you saw it coming, heheh) and of course for the last, like, 5 chapters being straight-up angst. I know that can get grating after a while, but, shhhh, it'll be looking up in the very near future. In the meantime, thank you all for the multitude of comments on the last chapter! I was completely blown away by your (mostly all-caps lmao) responses! Just so you all know, even if I don't reply to every one of them, each and every comment brightens up my day so much. 
> 
> As always, comments are encouraged!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ...As long as you come home at the end of the day (that would be enough, or perhaps _would_ that be enough).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK OK I'm letting up on the angst y'all are welcome

It takes a couple minutes of stillness for the gravity of the situation to sink in for Alexander. 

The whole experience had easily been one of the most painful things in his life (fourth to his father’s abandonment, his mother’s death, and his town’s hurricane). Watching John fall to the ground over and over again, watching his perfect, beautiful, freckled face drown in blood and tears, watching the look in his eyes turn from the bright wariness that makes him who he is die out into something dark, twisted. Watching how natural and comfortable Laurens is while fighting. Watching him get hurt, time after time, endlessly. Being unable to move the whole time. Lee’s crooked smile when it was over. John, in his own way, admitting defeat. It was just… painful. 

That’s why he’s holding the other boy so tightly. _I’m never letting you go. Ever again._ Alex sighs quietly, shaking his head a little to clear off the thoughts and running his free hand through John’s blood-matted hair gently, both wincing every time his fingers catch on a tangle. 

“We should go back,” he says softly after a time. Laurens nods weakly against his chest, and slowly, Alexander gets to his feet, letting the heavier boy put most of his weight on him. He doesn’t mind at all. It takes them ten minutes to make it back to their cabin, journey made slower by John being painfully unsteady on his feet. Blood from the back of his head is trickling down Alex’s shoulders _(Head wounds bleed far worse than they are,_ he repeats to himself in a desperate, useless mantra, heart twisted). 

At long last, Alexander shoves open the door to Cabin Five. “Lafayette. Hercules,” he hisses into the still darkness, John leaning all the more heavily against him when they’re met with silence. “Wake up!” Alex orders a bit louder, and Lafayette lifts their head. 

“Little lion?” they ask groggily, bewilderment in their voice. Hamilton nods and beckons frantically. “What happened?” Lafayette slides out of bed and creeps over to them, eyes widening when he sees Laurens, arm slung around Alex’s shoulder for support and head drooping. A drop of blood hits the ground with an almost imperceptible noise. _“Mon Dieu, what happened?”_

“A fight,” Alexander whispers, slowly lowering John’s limp body to the ground. His stomach wrenches as he looks at the broken body of his friend. “He… he got hurt. Lee’s worse off, but Laurens… he got taken down.” 

_“Merde,”_ Lafayette growls, running long, nimble fingers over the wound on John’s face. “Where else was he hit?” Alex had seen, by the light of the moon, that the blows fell mostly on his torso and lower legs. He points wordlessly. “Right,” Laf continues, voice quiet, presumably so they don’t wake Mulligan. “His knuckles are relatively torn up, too. But neither his eyes, mouth, nor hands were damaged, so as soon as the cuts close up, we can use stage makeup to cover it up. The head wound… Don’t let him fall asleep, but he’ll be okay, I think, given time. Tylenol should help with that. He needs rest, mostly.” Lafayette turns to him, eyes going dark, and they lower their voice to barely a breath. _“Ton amour_ will be alright, if given time, little lion.” 

Alexander doesn’t protest against the other kid’s interpretation of Laurens, just nods and lets himself move on to the next problem. Lafayette did makeup the previous year for the play, so John’s in good hands, he thinks. That’s not to say he isn’t worried, of course- Alex doesn’t leave the other boy’s side, holding John close to his body, as Laf bustles around searching for the First Aid kit. After what feels like an eternity, they pull it down from a high shelf above the closet Hamilton had never even noticed and rush back over to the pair, opening it up quickly and fumbling with the clasps. When they finally get it open, they immediately announce they’re going to get whatever Schuyler wakes up quickest and races out into the night. The clock reads 4:02 AM- too early to get anyone else, not that Lafayette seems to care. 

The moment Lafayette leaves the cabin, John opens his eyes slowly. “Am I okay?” he asks, wincing as he rolls into a more comfortable position against Alex, who feels like he can cry from relief. Even as it is, his face splits into a huge smile. 

“You’re gonna be great.” 

John smiles back and curls against him, eyes half closed, presumably from exhaustion but an unwillingness to sleep. 

A minute later, Lafayette half walks with, half drags Angelica Schuyler into the cabin, who’s loosely holding some stage makeup (so _that’s_ where Laf gets his supplies) as they stagger inside. Both kids kneel down by John’s side, Angelica gasping when she sees his wounds, eyes going from tired to intent and focused and a little bit scared. 

“Alright, Laurens, you’re the possibly soon-to-be med student,” Angelica states a little louder than she maybe needs to. “What first?” 

John sighs, not even moving. Finally, he focuses in on Angelica, as if even that simple action was an effort. “Clean up the cuts and the place where I got my head hit. We’ll work from there. Have you got any water? Or at least antiseptic?” 

“Antiseptic, yes. Water, no.” 

And so it begins. 

It’s not nearly as bad as watching him get beat up, but it hurts, watching Laurens wince in pain and seeing him with the fire and resilience gone from him. Alexander is kind of useless as far as medical stuff goes, so he declares himself the support group and opts to spend his time comforting John and himself. Every time either Laf or Ange comes near Laurens, he murmurs consoling words to him and strokes his hair lightly, because even though John might act tough, he still feels pain and fear and Alex is determined to stay strong for him, even as the other boy bleeds out onto uneven wooden floors far away from any home. By the time the sun rises, the self-designated, amateur med team has cleaned him up and figured out where his visible bruises are (they’ve decided to let the bruises heal on their own). 

“Now we start with the makeup,” grins Angelica, holding up the little kit. John groans loudly and leans his head back to stare into Alex’s eyes beseechingly (that shouldn’t be hot. At all. But here he is). 

“Do we have to?” Laurens whines, eyes twinkling. _That’s the first joke he’s made in… forever,_ Alex thinks, grinning down at the boy. It’s not a joke, necessarily, but he seems _happy._ Well, as happy as one can be in this sort of situation. 

Ange replies with a smirk, “Sorry, man,” and gets to work with concealer and a bunch of other words Alex has long since forgotten. Granted, it’s probably not the most hygienic thing to do with bruises that have actually broken skin in some places, but then, he’d be saying that to someone who stuck a band-aid over a head wound, shrugged, and pronounced it good enough. 

When it’s all over, at about 6:50, Laurens actually looks, well, normal. While it could be noted that the blending and contouring isn’t perfect, and that his freckles have disappeared in seemingly random spots dotting his face (Alex is, secretly, very disappointed by that), he looks healthy, albeit a bit tired if the dark circles under his eyes are anything to judge by. 

Angelica scans the boy still sprawled on his back, head on Alex’s lap, and proclaims, “My work here is done,” then packs up and leaves. John chuckles softly, a low, gruff little rumbly noise that Alex is almost personally insulted by _(How have I not noticed this?_ he bemoans to himself). 

“Can I sleep now?” Laurens mumbles softly, jolting Alexander out of his thoughts, who instinctively strokes the other boy’s hair. He’s become very intimate with John’s curls; even sticky with blood, they’re beautiful and feel perfect in his hands as he slowly rakes his fingers through them. 

Laf looks down at them, and for the first time, amusement appears on their face. “Yes, I think you’ll be fine.” Then they fucking _wink_ at Alex and retreat to their bunk, turning their back on them. Alexander rolls his eyes and drags John over to the bottom bunk; the other boy’s arms are wrapped around him so tightly he thinks he may lose feeling in his torso, but hey, it’s a pretty good way to go. Trying not to fall back into thought he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about his friend, who’s probably high off of exhaustion and pain, which is of course the reason said friend is clinging to him like some sort of koala (by the way, Alex considers the whole thing ridiculously damn adorable, but there’s no way he’s willing to admit that to anyone, much less himself). Carefully, he lifts John into the bunk, and he _still doesn’t let go._

“Stay,” John half-mumbles, half-hums, voice barely a breath- he’s already mostly asleep, of course that's why- and tightens his grips around Alex, who sighs resignedly and flops down next to him, letting himself move close to the other boy despite his better instincts. Laurens winces a little, but soon curls around him, arms loosening as he drifts off. 

Alex, however, despite his overwhelming fatigue, can’t sleep and really has no desire to. It doesn’t actually matter that he hasn’t slept in about a day. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever sleep again, even with John’s arms wrapped around him and his warm, slow breath on his neck. All Alexander can think of is Charles Lee’s fist slamming to John’s face, the cries of pain that flew from the boy unbidden, hissed insults spewing endlessly from Lee’s mouth, quiet enough that he could not hear and so many that they blur together, and how much Alex could not survive losing him. He’d never be the same, he knows that as a truth.

Letting out a shuddering sigh, he presses his spine against Laurens, as if to reassure himself he’s there. _I’ll make sure you’re safe, always,_ Alexander vows, then, adds to himself the words he could not speak aloud, _... because I love you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah daily dosage of sad fluff because my day was shit and I was trying to be cheerful
> 
> anyway! Drop a comment if you enjoyed! Love you all, bye till next time! (French stuff is pretty simple, the only one you MIGHT not know is "ton amour" which according to the dodgiest of all translation engines is "your love")


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so they wake up, and move on. (ft. Dad Friend Mulligan)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's less sad if it's any consolation. please enjoy!!!

John wakes up and feels considerably better than he should. 

Yeah, sure, he’s rather recently been beaten within an inch of unconsciousness (the jury’s still out as to whether he did actually pass out once or twice, if only for a second, if he’s being honest), but as his only clear memories are being held by Alex and the soothing touch of his friends putting him back together, he’s actually doing pretty great. The actual getting fixed up itself was pretty damn painful, but it was the idea that was nice- people bothering to get up at some ungodly hour in the morning for him, unconditionally. There was also the fact that Alexander never let go of him, and that he kept repeatedly running nimble fingers through his blood-matted hair. 

Also, Alex is curled up against him, and for once, he’s not at all uncomfortable or scared. In fact, Laurens lets his head rest against the other boy’s back and wraps his arms around him tighter, because at least in sleep they can be together without the thick wall of secrets and lies built up between him. He sighs against Alexander, and lets himself drift back to sleep. 

The next time he wakes up, Alex’s muscles are tense. _Well, shit,_ he thinks in resignation, then he hears Mulligan’s voice. 

“Wait, what the hell?” The older boy’s voice is gruff with exhaustion, but even John can hear the concern in his voice. “Laf told me you got hurt-” 

John sighs loudly and lifts his head, blinking groggily against the sunlight streaming into the room. “Yeah, okay, Charles Lee beat the shit out of me, but damn, you should’ve seen _him.”_

“True!” Alex laughs brightly, propping himself up on the mattress. Mulligan stares at them tiredly, and the bright grin dies off of his face. “Okay, fine, he got hurt, but Ange and Laf fixed him up.” 

Hercules rolls his eyes and drags a giant hand down his face. “You’re telling me that Miss I-Sort-Of-Ran-Into-A-Surprisingly-Sharp-Stage-Knife-In-Tech-Rehearsal-And-Am-Now-Bleeding-But-It’s-Cool-I’ve-Got-A-Band-Aid and _Lafayette_ tried to heal Laurens?” 

“I’m right here, y’know,” John comments drily, “plus, I’m actually feeling pretty fucking awesome, so.” He forces himself not to look at Alexander (no, of course Alex is not the cause of his great mood even in the slightest) (He’s gotten especially good at lying to himself, if nothing else). 

Hamilton snickers and slides out of bed. “What time is it?” he yawns, blearily glancing over at the clock. Suddenly, Alex lets out a shout of alarm, runs around haphazardly grabs clothing, and leaps into the closet, slamming the door so hard it shakes and nearly falls off its hinges. Apprehensively, John peers around Mulligan, then yelps: the clock reads 8:51. 

“Mulligan, what the actual--- rehearsal starts in _9 minutes!”_

He shrugs, casting him a vaguely worried look. “You needed the rest, from what I heard. So I decided to let you sleep. I even brought you breakfast.” 

Laurens sighs, but he can’t bring himself to be angry. Honestly, he didn’t really want to be awakened anyway, plus he got breakfast out of the deal, so who was he to complain? So instead of yelling like he normally would, he snatched up the offered dry cereal box from Mulligan and dug in hungrily; John had hardly eaten at all the day before. He’s barely even taken a couple bites when Alex bursts back out of the closet and falls to the ground, struggling to pull his shirt on. 

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” he gasps, finally getting it over his head and shooting to his feet, looking flustered; John and Mulligan are breathless from laughter. Finally, Laurens manages to compose himself, weak from amusement, and together they go outside. They’re getting their costumes and dressing room assignments today, at long last. Apparently they would’ve had them earlier, except Hercules was actually performing in the play instead of watching from the sidelines this year, though no one’s complaining. The way dressing rooms worked at Camp Forge was Washington assigned dressing rooms to people he thought would be comfortable with each other. It used to be two people per room, then the camp expanded and it was up to three (Alex holds to the fact that it was the Schuylers who changed that, but Washington denies it every time he brings it up). When it’s a Junior show, they get the room and the Seniors stay out or vice versa. The Ensemble people get a large room with two sections, because for reasons no one really understands the ensemble is divided into as many groups and it works out perfectly. John gets the feeling that none of it really makes sense at all, but you’re not supposed to talk about it. But, hey, if a system works, you use it. 

Even as it is with John not changing into actual clothing because of the costumes, the trio still ends up sprinting to the theater. He’s missed this, the running. And even though he’s sore as all hell, and his mind hurts from everything that’s happened, the early morning sun warms his muscles, and Alexander’s crooked smile lights him up everywhere else.

xxx 

Alex can’t help worrying about John now. Without the wild panic of the night, his thoughts have slowed down enough to focus on details. How he said he didn’t care if he got hurt. How used to fighting he was. The ferocity in his eyes when he hit Lee, like a childhood of pain was being released back out into the world through his fists. The exhaustion on his face when it was over. 

But the fact still stands that John’s happy now, for the moment. Light seems to shine out of his every orifice, and his laughter seems to ring melodically through the valley, so Alexander can’t help but smile (it’s taking all the strength of his willpower, logic, and impulse control not to lunge forward and kiss him, but he can’t, or shouldn’t, at least). 

A couple minutes later, they’re sitting impatiently in the theater as Washington reads out the list of people who will share a dressing room. It’s seemingly pretty random, though he notices that couples are getting put together- Jefferson and Madison have a room, as do the Schuylers plus Maria. Alex fidgets restlessly in his seat as Laf’s and Mulligan’s names are called out together; now there are only a few kids left that haven’t been assigned to another person. The way Washington explains it, the whole thing’s like a blood pact- he can actually see the fear on the faces of the newbies. The person you’re paired with becomes your responsibility: you have to make sure they’re onstage at the right times with the right props and the right costumes. With that in mind, Alex feels sorry for the poor soul that gets stuck with _him._

“John Laurens and Alex Hamilton!” Washington calls. “Room 21B.” Laurens grins over at him from the next seat over, seemingly oblivious to the silently laughing Schuyler sisters, and Peggy winking at them, plus Laf and Mulligan making faces behind his back. Alexander flushes but smiles back. _Oh, shit. It_ had _to be him._ This is the very definition of problematic.

Yeah, the chances of him accidentally screwing up this friendship in the biggest way possible seem to be getting exponentially higher by the second, as he contemplates how it will be to share a _dressing room_ with John Laurens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so long to update! I had a really terrible couple days, and even now I don't really have the motivation to write, so sorry if it's not super awesome. At any rate, please leave me a comment; they're very much appreciated!


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tech rehearsal!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this time with 50% less angst and 200% more gay (ah yes, back in familiar territory)

_Okay, so Alexander is blushing. That’s new._

John’s few actual coherent thoughts make a lot more sense than his actual feelings, which, at the moment, consist mostly of _Oh my God that’s so unfair who gave him the right to look that damn cute holy shit and now we’ll be sharing a fucking dressing room what is going on why me_ but also embarrassment because the entire theater is collectively smirking at him and him alone as they get to their feet and Mulligan starts running around with costumes. 

“Once you get your costume, go find your dressing room! There are two sides to the dressing buildings- A and B. Go find your branch and number,” Washington shouts over the loud chatter and rustling of clothing. He very nearly causes a stampede among the kids who are overeager to try on their costumes after so long, especially the ensemble people, who have way too many costume changes in the first place.

A huge stack of thick cotton cloth hits him in the head, followed by a shout from Peggy: “Shit! Sorry, Laurens, give that to Alex!” John laughs- he can’t find it within himself to be pissed off, for some reason- and tosses the bundle of clothing over to Alexander, who grins over at him before charging off backstage. He huffs in annoyance and grabs his own costumes from Herc, who he could swear is smirking at him before dashing after Alex, racing down the “B” hallway. Skidding to a stop on the wooden floor, John knocks loudly on the door. 

“Yo, Ham, let me in! It’s my apartment too!” 

“Just a sec!” comes a muffled yell. _Huh- that’s interesting,_ John thinks. _Pretty soundproof._ For a moment, he has to think about it, then snorts. _Oh right. Couples generally get the same room. Ew._

Finally, Hamilton swings the door open, already dressed in his costume for the first scene, jacket hanging halfway off of him. “Welcome, my dear Laurens, to where you’ll pretty much be living for the next week or so.” 

He steps inside and peers around. “Wow. How thrilling.” It’s a plain room with a table, presumably for props and costumes, as well as a battered couch shoved haphazardly into the corner and a mirror crookedly hanging on the wall opposite him. Alex snorts and shoves at him, pulling on the jacket. 

“Come on, just get changed. Opening number’s in probably about 10 minutes. Also, dude, just ‘cause we’re a relatively well funded doesn’t mean we can afford 108 well-furnished suites. Sorry.” His voice is teasing and light- far more playful than he’s heard from him over the last couple hours. John grins before a sudden, awkward silence falls over them. They’ll have to change. In the same room. Frequently. 

Quickly, Laurens turns his back on Alex before taking off his shirt. He can’t be sure, but he thinks he hears a sharp, muffled intake of breath before the other boy starts flipping rapidly through the script, as has become habit. It’s just fallen onto the list of Alexander’s many nervous tics; John has been awakened far too many times by a soft mumbling of words, no melody, accompanied by the loud rustling noise of pages being turned. Not that Alex doesn’t know the script, but it’s part of what he does, something John’s begun to associate with him. He gets changed as fast as he can before turning back around, blushing. Alexander’s gaze is fixed on his papers, cheeks as red as John’s. 

Thankfully, a distant, booming voice cuts through the embarrassed silence. “Alright, we’re gonna start the first act. Come out of the dressing rooms!” The noise starts up again- 50 or so high schoolers rushing out of an enclosed space, feet echoing across the wooden floors. Washington stares them down sternly as they enter the room so that by the time they’re all inside, everyone is barely daring to breath. “So, unless you’re in the next couple scenes, you’ll want to stay in your dressing rooms. You may have noticed that they’re relatively soundproof-” several couples grin at each other, and Washington pretends not to notice- “which has the potential of being problematic. If you stay in the conjunction between the two hallways, you’ll be able to hear what’s going on. It’s a relative large space, but still, unless you think you’re up soon, you’re just going to stay in your dressing room. Remember- it’s your duty to make sure both you and your roommate are prepared to go onstage when the time comes. Now- Places!” 

Just like that, everyone races off to where they have to be. The tech kids sprint up to the catwalk and begin frantically flicking switches and prepping the turntables, while the lone spotlight kid dashes up to the balcony where their booth is. The stage manager gets to their position backstage, whereas all the performers lurk in the shadows upstage, where the lights don’t hit them- yet. 

John jostles around until he’s at his place for the opening number. This piece is strange- he has to keep his face calm and emotionless, staying as far out of any character, himself or otherwise, as he can, and mostly has to move with the flow and sing his verse before dissolving back out of the spotlight. Of course, he doesn’t get to go backstage for a considerable amount of time after that except for “You’ll Be Back” and “Wait For It”. He’s in practically every scene in the first act, but in the second he just has to stay backstage and make sure Alex is okay before going back out for the final song. 

The tech rehearsal that day is grueling, as expected, but he walks out of it happy. It was an experience, to be sure, watching Alexander’s face change as he goes through the play. Observing him, John would almost believe the other boy truly was growing older as the musical went on, until he was struck down by a nonexistent bullet fired from a gun that looked far too real, until the curtain went down and hid them from an audience that was not there at all. 

xxx 

The dressing room situation went down about as well as expected (productive and really quite nice, except for when they’re changing, in which case Alexander forces himself to look away. Except that he hadn’t had the time to turn around before John started getting into his costume for the first song, and he’d gasped. Loudly. Laurens was fucking _beautiful,_ with his corkscrew-curly hair coming loose from his ponytail and trailing across his back, which was muscular and tanned and freckled and _shit he’d better not be blushing in the middle of dinner again)._ Alexander really does need to get any and all thoughts of John Laurens out of his head, though, and focus on how he could improve his work for tomorrow and how he could avert another disaster like this, but of course it’s not working. His mind just keeps going back to John’s smiling face and sunlit eyes and graceful movements and freckled body and... 

Alexander’s got 5 more days of this plus the week of performances. _Fucking awesome,_ he thinks more than a little bitterly (and with no small measure of despair).

He is so screwed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your support on the last chapter! It really brightened up my day!
> 
> (also @Alexander and John please stop being so gay it physically hurts) 
> 
> I'm planning on wrapping this up at 30 chapters, but I'm unreliable as hell so I'm not gonna change the annoying "?" thing till I'm actually done and 100% sure I'm not going to waffle on an extra chapter or ten. And also sorry for the really lengthy parentheticals and heavy-handed use of italics I swear I didn't mean to be so melodramatic about this. By the way the repeated references to dressing room sex is a nod to the fact that if I were to ever write hardcore smut or really any smut at all (which, writer's promise, I won't, so if that's what you're looking for you've come to the wroooooong account buddy) I would 100% use this 'verse to do it and that's how I would. I don't know why I said that; please disregard it.
> 
> Drop me a comment if you felt anything at all while reading this!


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Yet they push through. 
> 
> And now it's the night preceding the first show."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow this abruptly got gayer again 
> 
> holy shit 
> 
> well anyway 
> 
> enjoy

There is no way to describe the five days that follow other than grueling. 

It’s one of the single most exhausting experiences John has ever had the pleasure of living through. But then, at the same time, he’s also had the best time of his life through the muddled haze of perpetual weariness. His days are filled with the bright heat of the spotlight, the percussive beat of feet thumping on a wooden stage, the swish of closing curtains, the melodies of “Miranda”, the rare praise of Washington, the booming laughter of Mulligan, the playful arguments with Jefferson, the camaraderie of Lafayette, the devious look Peggy gives him sometimes, the smile of Eliza, the powerful, graceful movements of Angelica, the fire that seems to always be dancing behind Alexander’s eyes. Though that’s not to say the dressing rehearsals run seamlessly, of course. The same spotlight that makes him feel like he’s finally at home make minds go blank, himself included, the endless words and notes fleeing their heads. The warm lights don’t always flicker on when they must, leaving actors in the dark. Teens stumble over each other in dance numbers, fall unchoreographed to the wooden stage. The authoritative voice of Washington is often shadowed with exasperation and shame. 

Yet they push through. 

And now it’s the night preceding the first show. 

Dinner that evening is full of tense laughter and forced jokes, the noise of kids trying to distract themselves from their fear. John is very nearly frozen with nervousness- he keeps getting pitying looks from the other kids, which may have something to do with the bruises beginning to show through the stage makeup reapplied earlier that morning, but is more likely due to the fear on his face- and Alex is pointedly staying close to him. 

“I know this is your first show in a long time,” Alexander whispers suddenly, putting down his fork and leaning into him. “But don’t worry. You’ll be brilliant.” 

John smiles reflexively and takes his hand, as is now habit. “Probably not, but thanks anyway.” 

He can feel the other boy frown against his shoulder and pull away, scoffing. “Laurens, please. You’re one of the best actors here, hands down.” Sighing, John turns his head and looks down at Alex. His dark brown eyes are wide and sincere; Laurens blushes and turns away from his gaze.

“Alexander…” 

Alex huffs in annoyance and puts a finger to John’s lips. “Nope! I don’t want to hear it!” The boy’s formerly soft eyes are consumed now by the ever-present fire, daring him to say otherwise. They’re also intensely focused. John smiles slightly, lips curling up unbidden against Alex’s finger as his mind runs wild at the sensation. _Oh shit- oh shit- oh shit-_

The other boy breaks the frozen tension, hand disappearing from John’s lips immediately, cheeks a flaming red. He goes back to talking animatedly, fingers jumping around restlessly as he describes some ridiculous thing that happened to him while performing that day, though Laurens’s mind is far away from the stage. It’s preoccupied with the very idea of, perhaps, another part of Alexander’s body against him, preferably the boy’s mouth. _Yes, that sounds nice,_ John thinks, a little dazed while knowing he shouldn’t be. _Well, it’s not like it matters. And even if it did matter, it’ll never happen anyway._

xxx 

_I fucked up._

Even as he carries on in normal conversation under his friend’s watchful gaze, Alexander is panicking inwardly. The soft touch of John’s lips moving ever so slightly under his fingertips, the faint color dusting his freckled cheeks, the way his shining hazel eyes darkened with _something,_ if only just for a moment… 

Washington’s deep voice jerks him from his thoughts. “Alright, if I could have your attention, please!” The hall falls silent, and the man nods, satisfied. “It is a very high likelihood that few of you are going to be getting any sleep tonight, most likely-” a quiet “hear, hear” is heard from Peggy- “so while I ask that you do rest as much as possible, curfew is pushed back to sometime around 2 AM. We’ll be watching a movie in here tonight if you want to come to take your mind off things. Breakfast is at 9:30, lunch is at 1:00 or so, and your day is free till 4:30 at which time you’ll be headed to the theater for further instructions. Our show starts at 6:30. That’s all I’d like to say. Thank you.” Washington nods once more in dismissal and exits the hall, students watching him leave. 

As soon as the door shuts behind him. the hall breaks into excited chatter and John quietly asks, “Is that normal?” Alex’s eyes snap back to him. 

“No, actually. The last time that happened was my first year.” 

Eliza pops out of thin air next to him, Maria in tow. “What movie d’you think it’s gonna be this year?” she inquires excitedly. 

Alex smirks at her and rolls his eyes. “‘Liza, please. You know Washington is trash for Harry Potter.”

“Seriously?” Laurens half-questions, half-laughs, nose scrunching up in a way that is, quite frankly, adorable.

“Oh, yeah,” Alex shoots back regardless, a grin spreading unbidden across his face. “The question isn’t if- more like which one?”  
At about 9:00, they’re at the dining hall again, blankets from the bunk beds in tow. The Schuylers and Maria (she’s like a tag-on to the family at this point, which Alex regards as his own achievement considering the reason why Maria spends all her time with them) are all huddled under a giant heap of blankets, talking and giggling amongst themselves. Lafayette and Hercules opted not to come, sending a sly glance and wiggle of eyebrows in Alexander’s direction as Laf said so, which he pretended not to see. Herc had grinned and indiscreetly mouthed _Goddamn, Hammy, go get your man,_ but he pretended not to see that, either.

John and Alexander curl up against the back wall under a blanket of their own instead of heading to the center like everyone else. Laurens had led him back there immediately, eyes darting nervously to the surprisingly large crowd, and so there they sat, sharing a pillow. He’s acutely aware of every part of his body in contact with John’s, shoulders and hips lined up together, pressed against each other _(they don't quite fit together, John being tall and Alex being practically minuscule, but in the most perfect way he could possibly imagine)._

And they wait for the show to begin. 

After a couple minutes in comfortable silence, a projector flickers to life in the doorway, projecting a huge image of the opening title of “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1”. A muted cheer rises from the blanket covering the Schuylers, quickly shushed by those around them (half the theater snickers to themselves as a middle finger rises out of the blanket mound, illuminated by the blueish light of the projector, before immediately going back down again, presumably as the Schuyler remembers Washington is watching them). 

Honestly, Alex isn’t paying much attention to the movies. He said it before- his foster father is absolute trash, meaning he himself has watched the movie about 500 times in his youth. Instead, he focuses his gaze on John Laurens, of course, the flawless boy seated at his side. It’s completely worth missing the entire movie, looking and pretending that he’s not. Analyzing the perfect slope of John’s nose, the way his hair falls in waves over his shoulder, the way the movie reflects in his flickering eyes, the tiny upwards curl of his lips at the rare jokes, the definite ridge of his jawline, the curve of his neck. Alexander doesn’t want to be caught staring, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes away. 

The other boy stirs, and Alex looks away, blushing and ducking his head in the hopes he doesn’t see, only for Laurens to drops his head onto Alexander’s shoulder, still fixated on the screen. Hamilton allows himself to smile, and, tentatively, he lifts up his hand and slowly combs it through John’s hair, who sighs and cuddles closer, eyes half-closed. He flushes even more, though he hadn’t thought it possible, and wraps his free arm around Laurens, lets himself take in the other boy’s warmth. For once, John’s fiery heat doesn’t scorch him away and the smoke doesn’t choke him out; instead, it beckons him closer and he’s never been happier. 

Yes, he can be satisfied with this. For the time being.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaa, Alex, get your shit together p l e a s e
> 
> Hey guys. Thanks so much for commenting and kudos-ing thus far! Hopefully you really liked this chapter! Sorry for the crazy, long-ass run on sentences that plague my works, by the way.
> 
> If you care, drop me a comment; they are literally my motivation to keep on writing this and I really really appreciate all your support. Bye till next time!


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _What time is it?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well...

John has felt someone watching him throughout the entire movie. 

It’s not a wholly terrible feeling, just sneaking sensation that somebody’s eyes are on him at all times. He can’t bring himself to look away from the screen, though- he hasn’t watched a Harry Potter movie past the sixth and spent the majority of the time this one was out wishing he could see it, so he doesn’t want to miss even a moment. However, despite the best of John’s efforts, he’s rapidly getting drowsier; the threat of the play seems like a dark cloud hanging distantly on the horizon in the safety of the hall, surrounded by the people he loves, rather than a looming thunderhead hovering threateningly directly overhead. So Laurens feels like he can sleep (the first mistake). 

He forces himself to lift his head (it’s drooping down onto his own chest, and his eyes hurt from looking at the screen for so long), instead repositioning it on Alex’s chest. For once, the action is completely intentional, and, also for once, Laurens feels like he’s not somehow taking advantage of the other boy, getting closer to him. Not being asleep, or half-delirious from pain, meds, and/or all-consuming exhaustion. Not working off of pity, or blaming it on barely being conscious. It’s a nice thing, the lack of guilt. John feels Alex let out a breath and wrap his arm around him; feels him move his other hand up to run it through John’s hair, stroking it lightly, absentmindedly. He wants to stay in this moment forever, for as long as this world could offer him. It’s been ages since he’s felt this comfortable and happy and _safe,_ like nothing in the world could hurt him. Hell, he was a child, a reckless little boy. A child untouched by life, bathing in the glow of his own foreseen glory, not yet beaten down by the education system, by bullies, by grief, by his father. Not yet lashed out at until he submitted, let the light die, retreated into himself so deep he wasn’t sure anyone would ever find him again. 

No, now he’s warm and protected. Nothing can hurt him in the arms of his Alexander. _His Alexander?_ Laurens thinks a little scornfully to himself, surprised even at his own thoughts, jolting himself out of his haze. He knows he lays no claim to the fantastic boy who currently is running his fingers through his hair, tugging on it slightly when it hits a tangle (a twinge of pain on each occasion, but the good kind, always the good kind). He’s agonizingly aware of the fact that Alex is not his, will never be his, but there’s something about the moment that’s theirs and theirs alone, even surrounded by so many people. 

As happens far too often, John’s thoughts devour him and pull him far away from the outside world, this time so much so that he barely notices when the movie ends, except that Alex sighs and pulls him to his feet, a distant look in his eyes. 

“C’mon, we should probably go get some sleep,” Alexander mumbles tiredly. They're both still pressed close against each other- either because they’re too lazy to pull away, or they just don’t want to (John definitely knows he’s the latter). Alex’s arms are wrapped around him still, one hand resting hesitantly in his hair, the other on his waist. On one hand, Laurens is absolutely comfortable and happy, but on the other, his heart feels like it’s beating twenty times too fast and he might actually spontaneously combust as he lets himself lean even closer to the shorter boy. 

Alex shoves at John, chuckling softly into his shoulder even as he pushes him away; John can feel the breath against his skin. “I wasn’t kidding, Laurens. We do need to actually rest.” 

John sighs loudly and drops his hands from where he’d been holding tight to Alexander. “Fine.” 

Arms slung around each other’s shoulders, they make their way back to the cabin, leaning on each other for support. _It’s strange, really,_ Laurens reflects through his drowsiness. _The fact that while we’re awake, we’re so nervous to get close to each other. But tired, we’re like clumsy magnets at polar opposites, bumping into each other, staying together, hard to pull apart._

He’s too tired to really think about it, but he gets a bittersweet feeling he can’t explain all the same. 

xxx 

Alexander stirs slowly, eyes opening grudgingly to a piercing light that shines far too brightly, in his opinion. He groans and lifts his head a little but doesn’t sit up yet, blinking the sleep out of his eyes languidly. Blankets and pillows are strewn around him on the wooden ground where he lays (seriously, why does he always seem to end up on the ground in this damn cabin?). Next to Alex is none other than John Laurens, sprawled out about a foot away from him, chest rising and falling slowly. Still asleep, but probably not for long, judging by the way he’s shifting around ever so slightly. Alexander sighs and sits up, rolling out of the pile of makeshift bedding. _How did I even get here?_ Slowly beginning to feel a worming sense of worry in the pit of his stomach, he replays the events of the previous night in his head: 

_Right. It was the night before the play, meaning the musical’s going up today at about 6. Judging by the sunlight, it’s maybe 8:30 in the morning right now. What actually happened last night… Yes, that’s right, we were watching the first part of the Deathly Hallows. We being me and John, and also half the camp. It wasn’t all too late in relativity to most of the nights I’ve stayed up, but still, late enough, and we were all fucking exhausted from tech week- seriously, is it rehearsal or a military campaign, Washington- so it’s probable that we barely made it back here before collapsing. That makes sense._

And it does- it’s all coming back to Alex now. His own raging heartbeat as he held Laurens close to him. Trying to figure out the look in the other boy’s eyes as he stared off blankly into space. Helping him to his feet, and not shoving him away when he leaned on Alex enough to almost knock him over just because he enjoyed the boy’s proximity so much. Staggering off, using each other for support as they tried not to collapse from pure exhaustion (neither had slept much during tech week, Alexander least of all). Finally relenting to sleep’s insisting arms, falling on the bare cabin floor, drifting off. Faint memories of Lafayette snickering and throwing their bedding from their bunks on top of them, then shoving them close together with their foot before going off to bed themself.   
And of course it’s also Opening Night, and Alex is sore as all hell. Awesome. 

“Hey, Laurens, wake up,” he whispers, leaning over the other boy, who flips over and mumbles sleepily. “Seriously, dude, it’s show night.” 

John jolts awake, eyes flying wide. _“What?”_ he gasps, and Alexander laughs, half-surprised and half-amused. The boy glares at him, blush rising on his cheeks (still unfairly adorable, as far as Alex is concerned. _How dare he lay there with his curly dark hair and tired hazel eyes and freckled face and---)._ “So it’s not show night?” Laurens inquires drly, effectively flinging Alexander out of his (pathetic, self-pitying) thoughts. 

“Nah, it’s show day.” 

As a reward for his awful joke-that-wasn’t-really-a-joke, John flips him off and scoots away from him. Pouting melodramatically, Alex huffs and clambers to his feet. He was right; it’s 8:37 in the morning, and Lafayette and Hercules are already off at breakfast without bothering to wait for the rest of the cabin (Laf can’t control their appetite, and Mulligan is too much of a softie to make them suffer). 

“That was an awful joke, by the way,” John comments after both are ready to head off to the dining hall. 

Alexander can’t help but laugh. “Take you that long to give me a comeback? Damn, Laurens, and they told me you were quick to anger.” 

“Oh, shut up.”

Alex grins over at him slyly, wiggling his eyebrows, and winks. “Make me.” 

And just like that, he immediately regrets all his life’s choices as John goes bright red and looks away. _On the one hand,_ Alex thinks, _it’s cute as hell, but then on the other hand I’ve fucked up and accidentally made him uncomfortable. God, you idiot, did you actually just say that to your literal only asexual friend? Shit._

Luckily for him and his overreaction-prone mind, though, John just sighs loudly after a second and says, “Or I could also not, and you could keep talking and quit aiming lame innuendos that aren't totally innuendos at me.” 

Alex blushes. “Sorry, I-” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Now that Alexander thinks about it, he actually doesn’t know the specifics of the other boy’s asexuality. _Is he down with kissing, though? Shit, no way to casual way to ask that. Dammit._ It’s one of those times where he simultaneously wishes people could read thoughts and that he thanks anyone out there that they can’t. 

After _that_ event, the day seems to fly past far too quickly- the next thing Alex knows, Washington has the few members of the staff canvassing the grounds of the camp for the Seniors (the Junior show is the night after, and, if anything, they’re more terrified than the Seniors, who have crossed the threshold from panic over to acceptance of death. The Juniors have not gotten that far yet) and all the older campers are rushing into the theater building at 4:30 PM sharp in preparation for the performance. The cast is herded backstage as the tech kids frantically check the lights and sound and functions of the set pieces. It’s completely hectic, and Alexander Hamilton is in actual heaven. 

He gets changed as quickly as possible, donning his revolutionary costume and attempting to ignore the anxiety uncurling in the pit of his stomach. Tis the nature of showtime- a beautiful mixture of abject terror, feeling like one is about to throw up, and pure elation. So, yeah, Alex is failing to ignore the anxiety, but he’s already living off of an adrenaline high and the show doesn’t start for another hour and a half (no wonder his friends are always so worried about him on Opening Night). Mic checks fly past in a haze of belting out show tunes, and relatively soon, everyone is huddled backstage in apprehension as the mumbling noise of audience turns into a din of chattering and laughing as they wait for the show to begin. 

Alexander looks over at Laurens, who seems far more scared than he is- and has every right to be, honestly, considering he hasn’t been in a play for nearly a decade. The other boy’s hazel eyes are wide in a perpetual expression of fear, and it doesn’t take much close observation to see his hands shaking so much he’s very nearly dropping the pencil he’s spinning around in his fingers.

“It’ll be okay,” Alex murmurs before he can stop himself, covering John’s larger hand with his, feeling the boy’s fingers still beneath his own. “You’re gonna blow them all away, Laurens.” 

“Don’t think I didn’t catch that, Alexander,” John reprimands, but there’s a tentative smile on his face. 

“5 minutes to curtain!” comes a shout from the stage manager (Washington, of course- who else?), and Laurens jerks away with a soft gasp. 

“Oh God,” the taller boy mumbles and starts pacing. “What if I forget my lines, Alexander? What if the audience hates me? What if I fall over? What if-- shit, shit, shit, shit, shit-” 

Alexander slowly takes a step towards Laurens, like he’s some sort of animal he’s trying not to scare off. “I’ll make sure it’s alright,” he whispers, and John nods stiffly. 

There’s a knock at the door, and Martha Washington pokes her head in. “You boys had better be getting out of the dressing rooms and head out into the wings, okay? Now would be preferable, or we’ll have a show without its stars.” 

John laughs quietly as the door shuts before pulling it open again and striding rapidly towards the stage door, Alex following at a jog to keep up. They’re immediately packed in with the rest of the kids, who are all silent with apprehension and excitement as they listen to the audience fall quiet as Washington steps out onstage. 

“Welcome to Camp Forge’s production this year: the world renowned Broadway musical “Miranda”...” 

The crowd cheers, and the cast can practically feel Washington’s gratified smile. 

“Thank you. I wouldn’t want to distract you from the real point of the night- our wonderful performers- but I would like you to know that the continuation of Camp Forge depends on all of you out there. So, please, donate, and support the actors, actresses, and so forth of tomorrow. I’d like to thank several people, but they’re all on the back of your program, so look at that instead.” The crowd laughs. “And now, without any further ado, Camp Forge- “Miranda”!” 

Washington retreats backstage, shoots them all a thumbs up, disappears offstage. 

Then the opening chords ring out, and Alexander’s world dissolves. 

xxx 

John Laurens has no idea what’s going on. 

He’s dimly aware of dancing, and singing, and acting, but mostly it’s all a heady blur of lights flaring in his face, the deafening clapping of the audience. His own sweat dripping down his cheeks, cleaning off the stage makeup, probably exposing some of the lingering bruises from his fight. The faint outline of the crowd, faces he can’t make out. A reassuring hand placed on his shoulder, a clap on the back. Curtains swishing open and closed. The aching of his vocal cords; they’ll most likely be sore tomorrow, but that’s to be expected, Alexander says. 

John Laurens is delirious. 

He can’t make out any details, and the potent combination of adrenaline, full-out terror, manic joy, crushing amounts of emotions he doesn’t quite understand is making him feel like he’s either going to vomit or pass out. 

Yet, somehow, time passes and he’s surviving. Thriving. He takes a breath, and sings, purely, in perfect unison with the rest of the people he’s learned to love. 

_“Who lives, who dies, who tells your story….”_

His heart explodes. The audience bursts into applause, shrieks of approval, whistling. John forces the grin away from his face; he still can’t break character. It’s hard, though, and he can see the lips of other actors trying to twitch up into a smile as they try so hard to suppress their own happiness.

The curtain falls, but only for a moments, as the performers rush around at top speeds to find their places for curtain call. The world blurs out again as the yards and yards of heavy fabric lift once again, left only to the pounding of his feet against the hard stage, the quick beat of the music rumbling in his ears, the screams of the crowd, Lafayette and Mulligan’s sweat-slick hands grasping his before letting go again. 

And the curtain drops a final time. 

Music cuts off after hours of non-stop measures, and the cast breaks into cheers, tension in their chests breaking with them all in one moment. 

The eyes of Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens meet from across the stage. Things never said, in this life, or any, are in that one gaze, and both know it, and it breaks them. Thus, finally, for the first time in months, clarity dawns inside John’s mind with the force of a hammer. 

Laurens is flying across the stage, feet hitting the wood hard, and the next thing he knows he’s face-to-face with the brilliant boy he loves far too much to contain within himself, and, yes, he knows precisely what to do. 

Drop the act. 

Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [insert maniacal laughter mixed with tears] 
> 
> WARNING: AUTHOR IS DELIRIOUS FROM EXHAUSTION. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.
> 
> So, I finally hit the writers' block. Hard. Hence me not updating for, like, a whole three days. I felt bad about it (and holy shit dudes 400+ comments? Goddamn), I swear. Also, I got myself injured and can't put weight on my left foot, so I wasn't really in the mood to write this. 
> 
> [checking word count] 
> 
> Jeez. Not much, but still, legit twice as much as normal. Y'all are welcome. 
> 
> To be fair, though, I wanted to make a perfect chapter for all of you, and sorry for the cliffhanger. 
> 
> New subject, I also needed to address John's asexuality and stuff (guys come on it's pride month and ace day was, like, a day ago as of the time I'm posting this). So, yes, The Conversation is gonna go down next chapter, but if you were looking for a really hot makeout session you came to the wroooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooong fic. 
> 
> At any rate, PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE LEAVE ME A COMMENT! I LOVE YOU ALL HOPEFULLY YOU'RE HAVING A BETTER DAY THAN YOURS TRULY! 
> 
> Till next time...


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"We rise and fall and light from dying embers_  
>  Remembrances that hope and love lasts long  
> And love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love is love..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter.

For nearly the first time in his life, Alexander Hamilton realizes what’s happening a moment too late. 

John Laurens has a hand rested, feather-light, on Alex’s waist as their lips touch. 

The unexpected, sudden kiss is everything Alex could imagine about kissing the other boy and more- it’s sweet, and soft, with no underhanded intents. Passionate, yes, but on an emotional level, rather than a physical level, conveying the things they’ve been too afraid to say. In short, it’s like nothing Alexander has ever once experienced, and maybe that’s why, for the second time that night, the world falls away from him. The only thing that could ever matter was that Laurens stayed at his side. 

And then it shatters. 

John pulls away fast, face contorted into a pained, mortified expression that makes Alex’s stomach twist. “Shit, shit, shit, sorry, I shouldn’t’ve-” He dashes off in the direction of the dressing room- _their dressing room-_ and he’s still wearing that amazing colonial outfit that fits him so perfectly, makes him seem like a warrior rather than the teenager he looks (John Laurens is a warrior, though; Alex has learned that much). Alexander glances around- nobody’s noticed the scene, except for maybe Peggy, who’s staring him right in the face and mouthing something. He doesn’t need a cue for this, though: he knows exactly what he has to do. 

Racing after Laurens, Alex stumbles down the stairs from and twists sideways into the B hallway, before slamming open the door, perhaps louder than he should, to Room 21. “John!” he gasps, out of breath. The other boys spins around, face full of guilt and immeasurable pain. 

“Alexander, I-” John’s voice is miserable, and his head droops. Pain lances through Alex at his expression- he wants to fix this so much it’s an actual physical agony. He wants to make sure Laurens never feels this way ever again. He wants the kiss to happen again. 

“We should talk,” Alexander whispers, and for once, he doesn’t really want to; he’s not proud of it, but he wants to just kiss John again, answer the question that way. But he’s still not sure if the other boy would be okay with that, and besides, Alex still doesn’t know what the hell is going on and he doesn’t like going into situations blind. 

John’s face drops. “I- of course. We should.” He flops down on the dilapidated couch, closely followed by Alex, who clams up (that’s a first- he’d normally be the one initiating a conversation like this). “So, I suppose you probably don’t want to come near me again.” Alexander, heart flipping over, opens his mouth to speak, but Laurens just holds up a hand and continues. “I understand. I just… I’ve felt this way about you all summer, basically since I met you. I know what I did was a serious violation of yourself, and you most certainly don’t reciprocate, so I’m going to back off, and-” 

Alexander can’t take this anymore. “Laurens,” he cuts in, staring the other boy right in the eye. “I love you.” 

John doesn’t speak for a while. 

“You what?” He finally asks, and it comes out sharper than he probably meant, Alex hopes.

Alex takes a deep breath. “I am in love… with you. I most certainly do reciprocate.” Laurens lets out a breathy, relieved laugh, and drops his head into his hands. 

“Oh my God.” 

“Neither of us noticed, either,” Alexander speculates, a tiny smile spreading on his face. “Looks like I need to step up my game.” It’s a weak joke, a weary joke, Alex knows, but John chuckles a little anyway, and lifts his head. 

His voice is hesitant and a little awkward when he speaks once more. “Can I kiss you again?” 

“Hell yes,” Alex responds, probably far too eagerly, but he can’t bring himself to care, because John’s arms are wrapped around his waist, and their lips are pressed together again. It’s like waking up again, a sweet, innocent, hesitant kiss, and Alexander vaguely notices that they fit together perfectly like this. 

When they break apart, Laurens speaks again, and it’s even more broken up. “I… What now? I mean, I know you, and you’re definitely not ace, and I know you value… you know... that…” 

“Wait, what?” Alex interjects, but John is already pressing on, turning his face away from him. 

“... So when you find another, and you will, so don’t lie, please just tell me. I’ll… try… to move on.” The tears are back in his eyes, though he’s trying to hide his face from Alexander. 

Alex curls his fingers around the other boy’s larger hand, which is trembling.“No- Laurens. John. Look me in the eyes. Please.” John looks back at him, his face shaking like he’s trying not to let it fall apart. “You of all people know that sex doesn’t equal love at all. I swear, John, there is no other. Hopefully it’s not a surprise when I say that I like you a lot, but that’s a hell of an understatement. I’m trying so much not to be cheesy right now, but it’s hard.” 

“Alexander…” Laurens’s voice is weak, and the name is forced out, like it hurts him so much to say it, and that’s when Alexander knows exactly how damaged John is. 

In his eyes, Alex can see nearly two decades of pain all mixed up, clear as day, years on end of invalidation and abuse and fear of unacceptance, rejection. 

“I love you. More than I’ve loved anyone else, I swear it. I don’t make promises, John, because they are so easily broken, but for you, I am willing to take the chance. Every time. And that… That is a promise.” 

John reaches out and hugs him, and only then does Alexander feel the other boy’s tears dripping down his neck. Laurens is the strongest person he’s ever known, an anchor in the most perilous of waters, a calm in the middle of the worst storms, a ray of moonlight breaking through the dark branches of trees, and he’s falling apart. 

“I swear it,” Alexander whispers again. “I’ll keep you safe.” 

xxx 

It’s the morning after Opening Night, and the morning after his own act dropped. 

Strangely enough, John Laurens feels lighter than air, although he’d spent a considerable amount of time sobbing the night before. Though perhaps that has more to do with Alexander wrapped around him in his bunk than anything else. 

They’d finally talked it out- that was good. It’s hard to know what to do after months on end of pining after your closest friend, then suddenly getting together with them. Laurens knows it’s insane and completely irrational, being so deeply in love with somebody after such a short time, but it’s the truest thing he’s ever felt, and it’s natural- the two broken boys finding solace in each other in their even more broken world. Perhaps the greatest relief had been not the revelation that Alexander _loved him back_ (though, granted, he’s really not over that at all, either), but Alex’s acceptance of John’s sexuality. He’d just been so damn afraid that he’d just be rejected, thrown away, because, if he’s being honest with himself, a part of him knows that Alexander is the actual polar opposite of asexual, and always knew that. But knowing that he’ll be loved just the same… That makes a world of difference for him. 

For a while, the pair had just stayed on the couch, instead talking about much lighter topics; Laurens is sure he laughed and smiled more in those two hours than he ever has in his entire life. There’d been a lot more PDA than he’d bargained for (well, not public, but still: physical displays of romantic affection), but thankfully, Alexander actually respected his boundaries and truly cared for him. That was new, and normally Laurens wasn’t all too keen on novelties, but this one… This one he could get used to. Briefly, he had fallen asleep there, on that age-old couch, arms still wrapped around his boyfriend _(Boyfriend,_ John thinks, relishing the word) and head resting on the other’s shoulder. It had been about one in the morning when Alex woke him back up again; Laurens smiled slightly at the memory of opening his eyes to meet Alexander’s softly grinning face. They’d walked, hand in hand (like always, but it was different this time) back to Cabin Five, where they’d thankfully found Lafayette and Mulligan already asleep. The two had collapsed down into John’s bunk and drifted off almost immediately.

Now, John is awake, and he’s holding the boy he loves more than anyone else close to his chest, never letting go, because he knows, more than anything, that they need each other to survive. 

In his arms, Alexander stirs and turns around so that they’re nose to nose, and John smiles involuntarily. “Hey, love,” Alex whispers softly, lightly kissing his nose. 

“Hey,” Laurens murmurs back. 

xxx 

_======_  
Epilogue  
====== 

The final weeks of Camp Forge are spent in a whirlwind of sunlight interchangable with the flickering spotlight, laughter mixing together in song, cheers of the audience blurred with the sarcastic clapping of his friends, unscripted words merging with long-practiced sentences. The only thing that doesn’t change is the camaraderie and love that floats in the air like the softest of summer breezes, weaving the kids who have found their home in the darkness of the theater together. It’s home. 

And they won’t be returning for the next summer, or the one after that, or the one after that. 

Before anybody can even realize what’s happened, it’s the last day of camp. Cars are screeching to a halt into parking places just outside the camp entrance, but this time not to see one of the shows that have been running since the 10th of August till the 20th. The free five days seem to have flown by just as quickly, filled with the brightest of smiles and ribbings from friends and soft kisses exchanged in private (John’s still not comfortable with that sort of thing in public, not sure if he ever will be, but both are okay with that- it’s enough). 

“Hey, Laurens!” Alexander calls out on the morning of the 25th in the middle of breakfast. The other boy is midway through his second shovel talk with Angelica (it’s the fifth he’s received so far; for some reason the oldest Schuyler waited for the others to take their turn before she started in and freaked John out), and he looks up a little desperately. 

“Alexander!” he exclaims, scrambling away from where he’s seated. Angelica looks like she’s not sure whether to be amused or annoyed, settling on a little half-smirk as she stabs at her barely picked at scrambled eggs. “What’s up?” John asks, a relieved grin settling on his face. Alex still isn’t at all over that sun-glow smile, the one that makes him feel like somebody’s lit a candle up inside him, makes him flicker with light and warmth. 

“Oh- just, we’ve been dating for 15 days, have known each other for about 2 months, and I still don’t have your number.” 

Laurens laughs, eyes crinkling up around the edges, as he pulls a pen out of his pocket and scribbles down a phone number on Alexander’s arm. “Wow, if you put it like that, it seems like we really escalated quickly,” he teases, poking at Alex’s shoulder. Behind John’s back, Peggy mimes throwing up, and Alex rolls his eyes at them. 

“Just thought I’d save you from the terrifying preemptive wrath of the formidable Angelica Schuyler,” Alexander replies, grinning and leading John back over to their spot at the table. 

“Well, then I thank you for that.” 

Suddenly, Laurens’s face goes slack and he leans against Alex, as if for support. 

“What’s up?” Alexander whispers, instinctively grabbing his boyfriend’s hand and entwining their fingers carefully. John looks up at him, eyes wide once more. 

“My family. They sent me here to… eradicate my orientations. Both of them. Remember?” 

Alex nods slowly, thoughtfully, heart sinking at the tempered panic in John’s eyes. “You’re going to college in, like, a week, right?” 

“...Yeah.” 

“I swear to you that they won’t even come near you. If they lay even a single finger on you, try to send you to an actual reform camp, then I’m going down to South Carolina to… talk… some sense into them, okay? You’ll be alright. You’ve got me, remember?” Alexander has been making promises far more often over the last week. Perhaps it’s because he’s finally certain he’ll keep them.

Laurens smiles a little and squeezes his hand tightly. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE END, GUYS. 
> 
> (Holy shit it happened I'm so fuckin emotional) 
> 
> Also: 
> 
>  
> 
> _Later that day, Martha Laurens drives up in a car that obviously cost far more than necessary to retrieve John. “Dad didn’t want to come,” she says via explanation, voice dry and even a little amused. “He found out that it wasn’t exactly the kind of camp he’d bargained for.” From her brother's side, a short, dark-eyed boy snickers softly, and, vaguely, Martha wonders why._
> 
>  
> 
> lmao 
> 
> and obviously the summary is a quote from the Tony acceptance speech last night (iT WAS AMAZING GUYS THE WHOLE THING WAS AMAZING I WAS SO CLOSE TO TEARS THROUGH EVERYTHING HAMILTON-RELATED DURING THAT THING)
> 
> So... For my next story, I'm thinking pirate AU (or some sort of medieval-ish AU in which Laurens is a prince and Hamilton is his manservant [yes I know that sounds like "Merlin" from BBC give me a break]) but that's up for debate, so tell me what you think: Please leave me a comment below! I also plan on making a bunch of little drabbles that are in this verse whenever the writers' block hits me too hard, etc. 
> 
> Hopefully you loved reading this fic as much as I loved writing it! 
> 
> Till next time, my friends- goodbye.

**Author's Note:**

> Drop a comment or some kudos if you liked it enough to waste a few seconds of your day on this! Thanks so much for reading! I update quickly when the urge strikes (which is about daily or every other day), so always be prepared!


End file.
